The After part II
by D3adlyG33k'sMistress409
Summary: Summary: A journey back to undo what should not have been. Part II of my story The After. SSxLL. Romance/Spiritual.
1. Chapter one—Redux of Eight

Rated 'M' for mature subject matter

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Harry Potter or any characters therein, and I would like to thank JK Rowling for gifting us with such amazing creations that inspire the imagination!

Summary: A journey back to undo what should not have been. Part II of my story The After. SSxLL. Romance/Spiritual.

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The After part II

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Chapter one—Redux of Eight

He awakened slowly to consciousness feeling weighted… and aged. The first sensation Severus Snape registered was the lack of light. The next was the feel of cool, comfortable sheets surrounding him. He inhaled. The smell was at once familiar—drafty, damp, old—the smell of parchment and wood smoke, bedding and his own personal scent.

He was in the dungeons of Hogwarts, and he—wait a minute. He was in the _dungeons_?! Severus jack-knifed in bed, simultaneously grabbing his wand under his pillow and casting lumos. Yes, he was indeed in his dungeon quarters.

He looked over at his desk calendar and paled.

It was a week to the day that he was fated to kill Albus.

Severus closed his eyes on a groan, wishing he could be anywhere, _anyone_ else. With a breath, all of the old memories and feelings came rushing back: the look of pleading on Albus' face, the blazing green light of the Avada, the soul-deep feeling of self-loathing and disgust. All of it there for him to remember; all of it he would be compelled to re-live again.

How was he going to be able to do this—repeat it all again? He was alone. The most reviled man second only to the Dark Lord himself in the Wizarding World.

He inhaled deeply and pushed the wayward emotion down. It would not help him now. No, now he needed to plan. He would be forced to kill Dumbledore in a week's time. Severus thought of the fate that awaited the wizard in the after.

Hell.

There were many times over the years that he had gladly wished him there, had cursed and berated him for his manipulation, his machinations, his secrets and plans. But after experiencing it first hand, Severus knew he would not wish hell on his most hated enemy. Not even Tom Riddle himself, and _that_ was saying something.

What could Dumbledore believe of himself that he would condemn himself to eternal damnation?

For that matter, how does one choose to go to hell anyway?

He wished, for the first time but surely not the last, that he had asked more questions , gotten more answers from Luna.

_Luna_.

Severus closed his eyes and inhaled deeply remembering the smell of her sun-drenched skin and cherry-blossomed hair, the feel of her quickening and pulsing around him as he embedded himself deep within her softness, the cradle of her warmth. And how she would give tiny, breathless gasps each time he thrust—No!

Not in this reality.

Here, she was his student and he her professor. They were not equals. She would not remember him. And this was yet another sort of hell. He snorted. Yes, the celestials in all their infinite wisdom saw fit to allow him to keep his memories—all of them—and yet, she could not, would not remember.

Not until after.

Oh, how the thought made him ache. He heard a small sound of despair, and realized with a start that it was coming from himself; to have her so near and yet be so unattainably far.

He thought about the whole sordid mess; he had chosen the life of Severus Snape for a reason.

But why?

He dove into memories of his past lives to find the answer.

His previous life—life eight, the first attempt before the life of Severus Snape— had been spent as a monk in Medieval England. Sworn to a vow of celibacy, Severus had found sanctuary and structure among the day-to-day goings-on of the monastery. He had spent his days writing and drawing; his nose pressed to the page, huddled as close to the tallow candle-light as the vellum would allow.

He had not had magic.

He had seen her once; a woman and her babe requesting sanctuary. She had the child pressed to her breast, her hair the color of spun gold.

He had instantly fallen in love with her.

But those were dangerous times, just as dangerous as— and even more barbaric than— the atrocities committed by the Dark Lord presently. And the monastery refused to house her, refused to protect her and the babe.

Going against his vow to God, his vows to his brothers, Severus snuck out of the monastery and went to find the woman. He found them huddled under an old oak tree. The woman was starving, the babe seeking sustenance from a dry well.

He remembered her eyes, so luminous, so poignant with suffering, and he had shown her the abandoned thatch cottage that belonged to his brothers.

And daily, Severus had brought her food, brought the babe milk. But for the case of the babe, it was too little, too late. She died two weeks into his care. The woman, however, was stronger, and through his sustained nourishment, she began to quicken back to life.

Severus drew breath, coming back to himself, unready, unwilling to remember the rest.

Did he not have a good memory of life spent with Luna? He pushed himself to remember further back, more.

In life seven, they had been partners in the future: a future where magic was rendered obsolete in the face of humanities' technological advancement. Human's individual life spans were equal to, and perhaps longer than, the average wizard's. He was magical. She was not. And yet, they had taught each other so much in the realms of quantum vs. magical physics: two halves of the same whole.

They had accomplished much towards furthering humanity as a species. The debates they had—so spirited. How he would explain that magic was innate in all of them, some more gifted conduits than others; and how she would counter that magic is just science as of yet unexplained. And how she would kiss him in frustration as he would quote her own facts back at her, and how she would show him that even she was capable of manifesting an outcome through the shear _will_ of wanting it to be so.

In that life, they had lived in marital bliss for decades, Luna following Severus through the veil when he died naturally in his sleep as an old man, her synthetic heartbeat syncopated to stop with his.

Those thoughts comforted him, the good times.

Severus blinked. That was the future. A great span of time into the future.

And yet, here he was in the past…humanity's current present. Time, it seemed, didn't matter in the after. History really was a mystery as it could be revisited and revised again and again. The present and future all constructs within the arena.

And this.

This is why _she_ lectured him.

Shaking his head, Severus thought about what he knew to be true regarding the after, the celestials, and his place within it.

Item the first: He was on life eight. Upon the death of Severus Snape, he completed life eight and graduated to life nine—which was to have been the same as Luna, his soul's twin or other half.

Item the second: Luna came back in an act of foolishness, or desperation pending on the point of view, to help him accomplish his goals for life eight so that he could move on to the next one without committing suicide and having to complete this life over. Luna successfully completed life nine and was supposed to graduate to a higher plane of existence which possibly would not have included his own. She was not thinking of their possible separation, but instead was thinking of the state of his soul.

Which led him to…

Item the third: The suicide she had dreaded did not happen. But hell did—a worse fate.

Severus' soul chose to go to hell. But why? What really did he know of hell? Focusing, he recalled what Lily had said in the after: Y_ou must understand that Hell is not a place one is assigned to go to when one dies... It is a place a soul chooses to go: a kind of greater all-encompassing punishment that lasts eternity. Once the soul believes it belongs there, there is no coming back._

Okay, so what did that really mean in his case?

Luna had rescued him, but wait—was that right? She had insisted it had taken them both—him to recognize and want to leave, her to locate and extract him. So he had recognized he didn't belong in hell. He had wanted to stop the torture; he had wanted to leave.

Which had in turn redeemed his soul.

_But what of Albus? _

Putting away his mental factsheet, Severus' jaw hardened as he thought of what he would have to do in a week's time.

In a week's time, he would be consigning Albus Dumbledore to hell. He couldn't do it, not knowing the fate that awaited him in the after.

And so, Severus mentally prepared another list.

Item one: Find some way to convince Albus his soul does not belong in hell.

Severus snorted and closed his eyes. How in hell was he supposed to do that? Even to him, it sounded woo woo out there ,and Severus Snape did not _do_ 'woo woo'.

Item two: Collect the bits of the Dark Lord's soul that remain undestroyed.

He searched his room. The urn Luna had given him was not there. But wait, there hidden under the bedclothes. Flicking a wrist, he turned them back to reveal the silver container. Picking it up, he hefted it once again. It was heavy—dense; its properties unknown to him as it was made out an alchemical substance distinctly unfamiliar.

He examined it closely. It was some kind of alloy metal. white. There were markings in a strange language—it looked almost like sanskrit, perhaps farsi? Grabbing his wand, he cast a revealing charm on it, unsurprised when it yielded naught. He tried a translation charm, and as he watched, the words on the urn changed but were still incomprehensible. Examining it further, he saw no other recourse but to try and open it manually. Casting a low-level protection charm on himself, he tried to pry the lid. It wouldn't budge.

Item Three: Figure out how in hell the damned urn was supposed to work.

Setting it down, he resolved to contemplate the mystery of the urn at a later time.


	2. Chapter Two—The Breakfast of Champions

The After part II

_**AN:**_ I would love to know if anyone is interested in this story. Lack of interest will not stem the updates, but they are quite nice to read.

Thank you,

_**DGM**_

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Chapter Two—The Breakfast of Champions

Breakfast was now being served in the great hall, and he had the mantle of Severus Snape to don once more. Mentally, he reviewed where he was in this timeline. N.E.W.T. revision was taking place for his older classes. O.W.L. and end of term for the younger, not that any of it would matter next week. He grimaced in disgust. The Dark Lord would call him in two days time to ask for an update of the goings on at Hogwarts. He would tell him of Dumbledore's worsening condition and Potter's worsening ineptitude and get crucio'd due to Bellatrix's mistrust.

He would then meet with Albus and finalize plans for his euthanization cum homicide at Severus' hands and Potter's fate would be discussed at the hands of the Dark Lord as well. Occlumency shields and fiercest scowl firmly in place, Severus quit his rooms and made his way to the Great Hall.

Slowing down, he stopped momentarily before entering, staring at the mass of students and professors assembled: all of them innocent. Alive. Unprepared for the horrors that await them in the coming months. His jaw tightened. "Come Severus, surely it cannot be _that_ dire." Severus flinched as he felt Albus' uncursed hand pat him on the back.

"Never before my morning coffee, Headmaster." Severus scowled making his way up to the dais and seating himself ceremoniously at Minerva's right. She gave him a distracted nod as she continued to talk to Pamona. He had a pang of longing, guilt, and loneliness—pass over him. She would hate him next week. And she would actively be working against him next term. He quickly occluded the thoughts and emotions away, focusing on the dark brew before him.

Taking an appreciative sip, he scanned the great hall over his cup, his eyes honing in on anything suspicious. The Slytherins—Malfoy and his group taking center court. He studied him covertly. The boy had used a vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement in order to smuggle the Death Eaters into the castle. Could he perhaps…?

But no. His job was not to rewrite history, nor to change it but only to save the Dark Lord's shattered soul. He snorted into his coffee cup. "Something humorous, Severus? Is it something you'd care to share with the rest of us?" Minerva looked at him inquiring, a teasing glint to her gimlet eyes.

He raised a solitary eyebrow, "Questions this early in the morning, Minerva? Curiosity killed the cat, you know." He looked at her blandly and smiled.

Her teasing glint turned dry. "But satisfaction brought it back, my boy." They both smiled at the long-standing joke between them as Severus once more returned to his closet surveillance. The Gryffindors—Potter taking center, his group of followers surrounding him. Weasley with his usual vacant expression, Granger—nose buried in a book as she ate distractedly and jotted down notes.

His expression gave way to disgust but then softened slightly. Granger had not made it to the final battle. She had perished in Malfoy Manor along with Luna.

Luna.

His heart set to racing, Severus scanned the Ravenclaw table to locate her, and there, alone with only her thoughts for company, sat the other half of his soul.

As he looked, she looked up, and for an instant, a moment, her eyes had met his—and held. Emotion lodged in his throat, and he swallowed blinking. _Occlude! Occlude, damn you!_ Her eyes, so large and expressive, so calm.

She blinked and gave him a sunny smile, and remembering at the last moment, he tightened his jaw and scowled.

Oh, this would be difficult, having the memories he did of her—of them—of their lives together.

His scowl didn't faze her one bit as she continued to hold his gaze; her smile for him luminous in the weak, early-morning light. He narrowed his eyes and breaking eye contact, turned to Filius at his left—perched upon one of his ever-present books. "Oh, Severus! Good morning! Did you get a chance to brew that arthritic elixir yet? I meant to ask yesterday, but…" The wizened dwarf trailed off, thankfully not oblivious to Severus' scowl.

At least its effect had not diminished for anyone besides _her_. Had it ever affected _her_? "Yes, Filius. I will bring it to you after lunch." Severus allowed barely suppressed irritation to color his voice.

"You _did_ wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, didn't you?" He looked over at Minerva. She gave him an irritated scowl and mumbled, "Merlin help your first class this morning."

He stated dryly, "Yes, indeed. I do believe a quiz is in order and such a shame too. I expect many of your third year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws to be in tears before lunch." Severus smiled malevolently; already savoring the tears as the two beside them tsk'd and clucked their disapproval. Unwittingly, his eyes strayed back to _her_.

He was more careful this time, not focusing on her solely, but on those—or rather the lack of those—around her. Had he ever noticed just how alone she was? She was seated dead center at the Ravenclaw table. But it was as if there was some shield around her. All around her conversations were occurring between her classmates.

But not a one paused to talk to her. As he watched, a fourth year Gryffindor—Creevey was it?—came over and swiped a bit of toast from her plate. His jaw hardened as his eyes narrowed. But she looked up at the boy and gave him a vacant smile, asking if he'd like the rest. He nodded, and sitting down, helped himself. Severus looked around. This behavior went unremarked by any of her tablemates leading him to believe that this was a habitual occurrence. As he covertly watched, Ginevra Weasley and Neville Longbottom made their way over to her.

Now what could those three want with her?

He watched from his periphery as they talked for a moment, his gaze lowered, lest they sense it. He watched as quite suddenly, Luna got up from the table and made for the exit, the other two following with Creevey once more making his way back to table Gryffindor.

Wiping his mouth, Severus got up from the table, and unobserved, made to follow.

"—I tell you something's wrong with Harry. He's being distant again. "

"Perhaps the glumbubbles have finally tracked him down. They are attracted to residual curse damage after all." Severus quickly hid in a darkened alcove as the three strode in front of him.

He watched as the Weasley girl rolled her eyes in exasperation, "Glumbubbles? Luna, honestly! I'm telling you both, something's off. The three of them are at it again. They're keeping something from us, and Harry keeps going to secret lessons with Dumbledore. He thinks I don't know, but I do. I don't know what they're about, but I do think they can't keep keeping us in the dark." The Weasley girl stopped in front of his alcove to make her position known, and Severus smiled at her predictability. She was all but stomping her foot.

Neville—the witless wonder—Longbottom chose that moment to speak, "Perhaps Dumbledore is trying to prepare him to face Volde—…well, you know who?" His already pallid complexion paled even further at the mention.

"Don't you think I've thought of that? I understand why it's necessary, but what I don't understand is why Harry feels he has to go it alone. I've had that vile bastard inside my head. I know how he thinks, I could be of use. But do they see that? No. They tell me to stay away, keep my distance, preserve my innocence. From my parents, to Ron, to Harry!" She growled, and this time, she did indeed stomp her foot, "They don't understand that I haven't been _innocent_ since first year. It's enough to drive me mad."

During this exchange, Severus' focus was drawn to both Weasley and Longbottom but curiously not to Luna. He looked at her to find her staring up at him, blinking owlishly.

Severus started for once taken unawares.

"Hello, sir." She stated respectfully, if absently.

"Fifteen points from Ravenclaw, Ms. Lovegood, and fifteen points each from Gryffindor, Mr. Longbottom, Ms. Weasley, for gossiping in the corridors." He was thankful for his reputation as both Longbottom and the Weasley girl jumped satisfactorily. Luna—Ms. Lovegood, drat himself, didn't even bat an eye. He gave a malevolent smirk as he stepped from the shadows. "And I dare say detention for all three of you with Mr. Filch tonight."

He walked away robes a-billow, catching the frantic whispering, "Do you think he heard—?"

"Oh, Sweet Merlin! What did I say?!"

Severus made his way back to his office, mentally reviewing the week to come. Potter was going to go with Albus to destroy a horcrux. A necklace if he remembered correctly. Albus would come back poisoned, the Death Eaters already in the castle thereby forcing his hand. He remembered her saying something about Felix Felicis when he had questioned her. She and her friends had taken some before the skirmish in the astronomy tower. But where…? Severus jogged his memory of Luna's fifth year, trying to recollect where Potter could have received the very valuable brew—Slughorn—his memory supplied him.

Slughorn had bragged in a staff meeting that Potter had won it, managing to successfully brew Draught of the Living Death. Severus snorted, knowing for a fact the only reason he was able to do so was because of his old potions text. Half-blood Prince indeed. Somehow, he would have to make sure Potter had enough of the valuable potion to make it through. He would not want Luna endangered because there wasn't enough to go around.

Going automatically to the blackboard, he began posting questions for the third year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors to answer, smiling to himself when he thought of a particularly obscure footnote that none but the most dedicated and enterprising of potion's students would be able to remember.

Absently, he thought of Luna again.

She had always puzzled him. Her work in potions—as in all of her classes—was above reproach. If he called on her, she would give him the answer—more or less—in addition to citing some random bit of nonsense about some imaginary this or that.

She really was quite clever, his Luna. If it wasn't for her tendency to lose focus, to lose sight of what was _really_ important.

Again, he snorted.

Wasn't that the crux of it? The reason he had thought himself worthy of hell.

_He_ had lost focus, lost sight of what was really important. And wasn't she forever telling him this?

_You are too much of the world and what's in it Severus. _

_And you are too much in the clouds, my sweet._

His heart ached at the ever familiar argument. They had it once a life at least in some form or fashion. She had lectured him just this past life about being so. And he had to admit she was right.

If he hadn't have let their circumstances overcome him, he never would have committed suicide. He never would have elected to take up the mantle of Severus Snape—spy, traitor, and martyr to the wizarding cause so that he could equal her in lives accomplished and experience gained. He never would have thought himself worthy of hell afterwards, and she never would have been compelled to rescue him thereby accomplishing the impossible.

And they wouldn't be here—again—reliving this nightmare! Curse it all!

The chalk he was holding crumbled to dust at his uncontrolled outburst. Closing his eyes, Severus drew a deep breath, and waving his hand over the dust, picked up the chalk again and finished his instructions.

Giving another wave of his hand, the instructions disappeared as the first enterprising students began to trickle in. Seating himself imposingly at his desk, he opened his potion's text on brewing Felix Felicis and began to scan it. It wouldn't hurt to refresh on how to brew it in case more was indeed necessary.

Once all the little blighters were quietly seated, he deliberately closed his book with a thump, knowing all eyes were trained on him.

With a wave of his hand the instructions appeared. He smirked, "Begin."

The cries of distress uttered by adolescents caught unawares were a thing of beauty to Severus' ears.

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	3. Chapter Three—The Status in Question

Chapter Three—The Status in Question

Severus grit his teeth as another wave of pain crested over him. Crucio by Bellatrix's hand was never a good way to spend an evening. She had a particular affinity for the curse and the sheer stamina it took to administer it for hours if need be.

He did not know. Minutes, hours, years could have passed with him curled up on the Malfoy's parquet floor, writhing.

He did not scream. He would not give them the satisfaction of it.

Frantically, he thought of the alchemical table of elements and their varied uses, distracting himself from the torture his body must endure lest his mind go the way of the Longbottoms, and the Dark Lord be able to read his thoughts. Silver in combination with Agua Regas in the moon's fourth quarter would render a potion prone to luck especially potent. Using the specialized time dilation spell he had refined meant that if he started brewing the Felix Felicis tonight, it would be ready Thursday.

Two days before…Merlin's balls…_would_ that she would cease tormenting him!

Distantly, he heard her cackle, "Come on Snape. Tonight, you shall break. We all know you are a traitor to our lord. If not yet in act, then in thought. So come on. Spill yourself." The torture ratcheted up a notch as Severus, indeed, felt his bladder and bowels giving way, and all assembled laughed. Burying his humiliation behind his occlumency shields, Severus began reciting the ingredients and steps necessary to brew.

"Bellatrix, stop."

Immediately the torture ceased, and Severus felt his mind being probed once again by the Dark Lord. He pushed thoughts of loyalty, of pride of place, of hatred for Albus Dumbledore and Hogwarts to the fore. "Felix Felicis, Severus? And why have you need of this?" Behind his occlumency shields, Severus cursed himself for an idiot. How much had he seen?

Slowly moving from his position on the floor to a kneeling position, Severus panted, "I have been busy thinking of any advantage to give our side, my lord, which could sway the balance in our direction. Felix Felicis could be it." Severus winced inwardly as he heard the Dark Lord laugh.

"Ah, Bella. And you question our Severus' loyalty. Rise."

Painfully, Severus did as bid, slowly coming to his feet and focusing on not toppling over. "This idea is most intriguing. But it seems juvenile at best and not en par with your usual intellectual acumen." Severus risked a glance at the Dark Lord. He was smiling benevolently. Severus felt a chill crawl up his spine. "Felix Felicis—Liquid Luck. My Death Eaters do not _need_ luck, Severus. _They make their own_. Crucio."

Severus folded on the parquet floor yet again; this time by the Dark Lord's hand. He was wrong. So very wrong. Bellatrix had nothing on the Dark Lord when it came to the Cruciatus. Distantly, he heard someone scream in terror.

Absently, he realized it was himself.

There was no distancing himself. It was him—he was in pain. In Hell. Oh, Merlin. Hell! His memories of the torture of the place overwhelmed him, and the fervor of his terrified cries increased.

"Oh, yes, Hell! Severus. This is hell. And I will show you true hell if you deign to propose such an asinine suggestion again." With one more flick of the lash, his master released the spell, and Severus curled bodily, quivering on the floor. "Someone attend him; I care not who. The rest of you are dismissed."

Absently, Severus noted the Dark Lord taking his leave in a swirl of robes.

And then soft hands were on his face, prying it away from the cold floor.

"Drink." He did so, knowing these hands, knowing the person attending him was Narcissa Malfoy nee Black. With a flick of her wand, she had him cleaned and suitably presentable once more. Another pain potion and the screaming in his nerves ratcheted down to an almost bearable level. At least, until the potions wore off in a few hours, then the screaming in his muscles would begin again in earnest and would have to be endured.

His tolerance to pain potions was already high; he didn't need to add addiction to his ever burgeoning list of problems.

Which brought him back to— "Have you made any progress with Draco, Severus? I keep hinting to him to confide in you, to ask for your assistance."

Trying to still the involuntary quivering of his limbs, Severus shook his head, "N-no, Narcissa. He yet refuses." Severus closed his eyes as he felt her apply a mild warming charm to his hands and feet. Warmth. The only way to effectively stave off the lingering effects of the cruciatus without resorting to more potion.

He heard her make a sound of distress, a growl perhaps, and he smiled. Never was there a mother more fierce in her love than Narcissa Malfoy. He almost envied her little shit of a son. He thought of Lucius. Even now, he was close by. He could sense if not see him, and Severus' heart beat fast. Neither he nore his wife would survive the coming year, both punished fatally in retaliation for some perceived slight by the Dark Lord.

He felt a strong hand on his shoulder, and he was being lifted, hoisted to his feet. "Come, my old friend. Why in hell were you thinking about Felix Felicis?" Lucius' vexation was apparent, and Severus looked over at him, trying to focus his vision as he focused his thoughts.

Lucius had definitely seen better days.

His time in Azkaban did nothing to credit his image. He looked haggard; the well-manicured and polished façade revealing desperation and fear lying just underneath. He knew what he was thinking—what they all were.

The Dark Lord had increasingly become more and more unhinged. The first time Severus lived through this, he could not figure out why, and he remembered spending hours discussing this development with Albus, plotting how to use this weakness best to their advantage.

But now he knew, just as Albus must even now suspect—horcruxes. And like a tent tethered by stakes, every piece of the Dark Lord's soul that was destroyed only served to unhinge the tent further from the tether.

Eventually, the tether would snap, and unfortunately, Narcissa and Lucius would be there when he did.

Severus closed his eyes on a groan and bowed his head. "Come, my old friend, it is nothing worse than what you've had to endure before…or… still yet will." he mumbled quietly. Severus leaned heavily on him as they made their way slowly to the apparition point.

He aimed his tone for just the right amount of caustic wryness, "But yes, I was much younger then; we all were." He heard Lucius laugh hollowly, a phantom of his former arrogance.

"Yes, youth; to feel nineteen and carefree again."

Yes, nineteen. Lucius' age just before he had been recruited by the Dark Lord. "Sometimes, the burdens of adulthood feel so heavy—" But there he stopped for they had arrived, and one more sentence could border on treason. And so, they nodded to one another in mutual understanding—as only brothers in strife could understand—and gathering his yet untapped reserves of energy, Severus thanked Narcissa for being the consummate hostess and apparated to the gates outside Hogwarts to await Hagrid.

He collapsed in a heap at their metal feet.

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	4. Chapter Four—Soul Man

The After part II

Chapter Four—Soul Man

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He awoke in the hospital wing minutes later to find Albus at his bedside. Poppy had just left, he knew, from much experience as Albus had seen fit to ascertain his condition and then wake him as quickly as possible in order to find out any recent developments. Severus grit his teeth, mentally girding his loins for the conversation about to take place with this man.

"How do you feel, Severus?" The older man asked solicitously. Over the years, Severus had often had cause to wonder if the headmaster was earnest in wanting to know his true state. He often mused that Albus did not care as long as Severus was able to perform his duties as spy and potion's instructor. That was all that mattered. The minute Severus stopped being useful was the minute Albus' so-called concern would disappear.

And so, Severus grit his teeth and pushed through the pain, "Oh, I feel as fresh as a spring morning, Headmaster, and yourself?" He gestured regally to the older gentleman, his hand still held a fine tremor while his other clutched at the hospital blanket to keep it from trembling further.

He watched in concealed delight as the older man's jaw hardened, and Severus gave an inward smirk. It was always a pleasure needling him. "I meant to inquire as to whether or not you are feeling up to our standard mode of inquiry, or if you would like me to extract your memories to the pensieve?"

Severus grit his jaw and looked at the old man wryly, "I believe I will survive your inquisition. But first, I have one of my own." Severus paused, and sitting up in the bed slowly, gathered what he was going to say.

At length, he stated, "The Dark Lord has become more paranoid of late, and my position with his circle becomes more precarious each day. We both know this. However, headmaster, it has come to my attention that the Dark Lord has become increasingly more unstable. The reasons, I fear, could be too numerous to name, and so I will tell you of my suspicions, and you may feel free to confirm or deny. The curse that inflicts you was one from a ring. It was a cursed object capable of inflicting great damage much as the necklace that was given to Ms. Bell was wont to do earlier this year." He saw Albus nod slightly. "Tell me Headmaster, just how did you destroy the curse that was on the ring?"

He saw Dumbledore's eyes harden slightly and knew he would have only one shot to get this right. Otherwise he risked alienating the only person who knew just what the horcruxes were or where they could be hiding, and that knowledge would expire in a matter of days. "It hardly matters, Severus. I did so and was able to come to you for treatment."

Severus' eyes narrowed as he looked at the older man; his Slytherin cunning trying to find a way to out-maneuver the master strategist, "I couldn't help but think of another cursed object at Hogwarts during Potter's second year upon overhearing a conversation the other day: the diary, Headmaster, given by Lucius to the Weasley girl, which held a bit of the Dark Lord's _essence_ within its very pages. Tell me what do you know of this?" Severus kept his tone light.

His thoughts were anything but.

The headmaster's eyes grew cold and flinty. "I cannot discuss this with you, Severus. You spend too much time with Tom as it is. I prefer to keep this particular secret close to the vest as they say."

Severus' jaw tightened so much, he heard it pop. He roared as he slowly made his way from the bed to stand. "Dammit, Albus. I know you know what this means." He paced slowly, carefully; his hands swiping agitated at his lank and greasy hair. "If the Dark Lord has done what we think he has, then we need to discuss it before you die."

"Stop Severus! Think no more of it." The headmaster's tone was steel in its resolve, even as his wand came up before Severus' eyes. "Do not make me obliviate you. In fact, I should do so now." Severus felt Albus probing the deepest recesses of his shielded thoughts, looking for tendrils to cut, thoughts to delete. He found nothing. "Severus! I will not have you risking this. It is too much! It means too much for the greater good."

"The Greater Good." Severus laughed bitterly, "Oh, Albus. If he's done what I think he's done, and if you're doing what I believe you're doing, you are going to need more than a miracle to win the coming war. You are going to need interference from the Divine. Soul Magic, Albus. Soul! " He looked at his master, his employer, his tormentor, and he knew now was the chance to speak. "Even the Dementors know not to corrupt a soul. They may swallow them, but they are there; they still exist. Perhaps in a type of malignant purgatory, but they still exist until the time they are set free. What type of hell awaits someone who has elected to split himself to pieces? The Dark Lord is unhinged, unstable, and will only get even more so as time goes on. What would you suggest I do as time goes on, Albus?"

Severus watched as the headmaster's shoulder's drooped in resignation; he looked every one of his one hundred plus years. "Nothing, Severus. It is not your place. You can do nothing with this knowledge."

He pulled deep, channeling everything Luna and Lily ever told him about the soul. He stated quietly, "A soul is supposed to be eternal, Albus. You know this. The Dark Lord has corrupted his, and yet, for all the corruption, his soul is still worthy of redemption, is still worthy of love."

Albus looked surprised, taken aback.

Severus' lips twitched. Perhaps that was why Luna did it. _The bewilderment factor_—he would definitely have to ask her once he put this particular mortal coil to rest once and for all. He came back to himself, realizing Dumbledore had been speaking, "—myself. I had no idea you were a spiritualist, Severus."

He turned his back on the headmaster, intentionally giving him a clear shot, knowing he wanted to obliviate him. Not that it would matter; the knowledge he possessed about the horcruxes was soul-deep. "Why else do you think I am doing as I'm doing, Albus? _Redemption for_ _her_—to be worthy in _her_ eyes when I meet her once more." Never mind that the _her_ in question now resembled a blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty more than a red-haired, green-eyed one. "Recently, I have had cause to think that every living thing possessing of a soul is indeed worthy of redemption." Severus closed his eyes and tightened his jaw, knowing that he was sounding just as 'woo woo out there' as his soul's mate.

But he couldn't allow Albus to go to Hell, not while he could do something to prevent it. "Whatever flaws that one perceives in one's character, Albus, are fleeting at worst—not eternal—and definitely not worth eternal damnation." He heard the headmaster draw a quick breath. Was that it then? Albus felt a flaw in his core character was indeed beyond redemption. Severus stated in his most pedantic tone to cover the foolishness he was feeling upon discussing such a thing, "As previously stated, it is my belief that a soul is eternal and incorruptible. You asked me if killing you would rend my soul in two once. The short answer, Albus, is no; it would not.

"I will kill you as a kindness for I know what hell you would eventually suffer once you succumb fully to the curse of that ring." He lowered his head, "If there is a way you can help me—_me, Albus_—rid the world of the pieces of the Dark Lord's soul, please tell me now."

Severus looked into the glass window casement. He saw Albus Dumbledore's reflection as he stood there, "I'm so sorry, my boy. I cannot." his wand poised, and even as Severus saw the word obliviate fall from his lips, he knew he had accomplished what he had really set out to do.

Albus would think about redemption; he would think about the state of his soul, and he would make the right choice concerning his after.

Severus felt tendrils of thought twist, snip, and weave back together seamlessly; his innate knowledge of the horcruxes still staying untouched within the lowest shields of his mind and soul as the headmaster purged all traces of this conversation as well any thoughts pertaining to horcruxes in general from Severus' mind. While rifling, Albus also viewed the meeting with Tom Riddle and gleaned exactly why Severus had been tortured so extensively this night.

He awoke later that night in the hospital wing with a vague recollection of having told Albus exactly what he needed to know in regards to the meeting but being too exhausted to go into particulars. In cases such as these, he had given Albus permission to just extract his memories and view them in the pensieve.

Making his way, tiredly, to his dungeon quarters, Severus prepared himself for the following day—part of his countdown to Albus' end.

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	5. Chapter Five— Luck Be a Lady

The After part II

Chapter Five— Luck Be a Lady

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Severus stood outside Gryffindor tower. He had done a quick headcount at breakfast, and all the Gryffindors were assembled for this, the final quidditch match of the year against Hufflepuff. He had wagered twenty galleons, surprising Minerva by betting on her house; knowing the outcome of course. He smirked cruelly even as he waited for the Fat Lady to return to her portrait.

"Madam, I do not have all day." he stated testily.

"What? Oh, professor! I'm sorry I did not see you there!" The rotund and garishly painted woman answered from her neighbor's portrait. He watched, scowling as she made her way to her own. "What can I do for you?"

"Prioratus." Severus stated, and the portrait door swung open revealing the Gryffindor common room. Severus sneered in distaste. Honestly, everything in shades of garish gold and scarlet. He made his way quickly to the boys dormitories and then up to the sixth years. He had contemplated various ways of insuring Potter had enough Felicis, but this was the least-invasive one he could think of without resorting to imperio.

Upon reaching the correct dormitory, he set about by process of elimination to see which bed was Potter's. Muggle Soccer and quidditch posters adorned one. Random books on flora and various obscure plants decorated the nightstand of another. A poster of the Chudley Cannons decorated yet another. Severus narrowed his eyes. He saw the corner of a very familiar parchment peaking out of the trunk in front of one sloppily made bed. With a flick of his wand, the trunk opened.

He immediately spied the parchment—the Marauder's Map if he wasn't mistaken—as well as a photo album. Another flick of his wand had the album zipped into his hands, and he paged through it idly.

The part of him that was innately Severus Snape inwardly groaned when he saw his Lily dancing with James Potter beside a fountain. He flicked the pages: a handful of pictures of the Potters and some with Harry as an infant.

So many blank pages remained.

He shook himself from these thoughts. He was not there to wax poetic his much resolved unrequited love. He had a job to do. Replacing the album as he found it, Severus mumbled a detectable tracing charm of his own invention to reveal the potion. In the bottom of the trunk, beneath the invisibility cloak, a moldy, mangy sock began to glow. Grimacing in disgust, Severus flicked his wand and levitated the damned thing before him.

The savior of the wizarding world he might yet be, but Harry Potter was just as loathsome and disgusting as any typical teenage boy. Severus excluded himself from this thought. For even as an adolescent, _he_ had been fastidious in keeping order and cleanliness of his few possessions and appearance. Despite his sobriquet suggesting otherwise.

He unrolled it carefully, and revealed the tiny, clear vial of golden potion. It was just as he thought. A little more than a swallow's worth of actual dosage for the average wizard. Hardly enough for one person let alone an entire group.

Severus quickly transfigured and replaced the glass vial of Felicis he had brewed to look identical to Potter's. The concentrated brew he had made was more potent and thereby needed even fewer drops ingested to yield greater efficacy. A few drops of _his_ Felicis would ensure the foolhardy Gryffindors and Luna—Miss Lovegood, dammit! would be protected from what was to come.

Another flick of his wand, and the Felicis was rolled into the disgusting sock and put away into the trunk. Upon quitting the room, the trunk looked as if nothing had disturbed it. Hearing voices, Severus disillusioned himself and silently made his way down to the common room.

"Aargh! I know it's here somewhere! Neville, you have to help me find it!" He saw the female Weasley frantically searching for something, looking in cushions, under the furniture. She was dressed in her quidditch robes.

Severus glanced at the clock. The game was set to begin in twenty minutes' time. She would need almost every moment to make it down to the pitch in order not to cause a forfeit. Severus squinted; her late arrival could cost him twenty galleons.

"What does it look like again, Ginny?"

"It's Harry's Firebolt! Oh, Neville! I had it shrunk in my pocket to give back to him after the last match against Ravenclaw, and I know I had it this morning. I didn't realize I had a hole in my pocket …and it must have fallen out …and oh, what a disaster!" He watched as the redhead sat heavily on the dilapidated arm of one of the chairs. It creaked ominously. "It's the size of a thimble, Neville. And I've lost it!" she wailed.

Severus tsk'd and rolled his eyes, surreptitiously scanning the room as well for the damned thing. "Miss Weasley, Mr. Longbottom." the voice of the Fat Lady rang clear in the garish room. "There is an interesting-looking young woman outside that would like a word with you both." He saw Miss Weasley sigh dejectedly.

"Oh! Why the hell not? Gryffindor can't play without a Chaser, and Harry doesn't have a broom!" she yelled, stomping over to the portrait door.

"Hello Ginny, Neville." A distant, dreamy voice rang from the hallway, drawing nearer. Severus' pulse began to beat slightly faster. "I saw you both come up here. I thought you both were searching to find the umgubular slashkilter." She rounded the corner, and Severus did a double-take. Was that an actual lion atop her head? As he watched, the damned thing gave a realistic roar, nearly upsetting him from his position in the shadows. "Although, now is perhaps not the best time to search for it, you do have a quidditch match to attend, Ginny." Severus snorted silently at the absurdity of Luna's—Miss Lovegood's! lecture.

"Although, it would make a pleasant diversion on such a beautiful day. The best place to go looking for it, according to daddy, is at the Ministry. Minister Fudge has one in residence you know?" she stated airily, distracting Miss Weasley from her frantic search by pulling out a pair of odd-colored spectacles and putting them on. She scanned the room, and Severus swore she looked straight at him.

Taking them off, Luna blinked, seeming to come back to herself as she smiled at the other two who looked a bit dazed. Shaking his head seemingly to clear it, Longbottom once more returned to the search, "Perhaps you can help us search, Luna. Ginny misplaced Harry's Firebolt after she shrank it and then it dropped. And now, we can't seem to find it." Longbottom had his arse straight up in the air as he looked under the common room couch, and Severus sneered, averting his eyes from the gratuitously disgusting display.

"Oh. I saw this fall from Ginny's pocket as we were at breakfast." Luna held up the thimble-sized piece of wood. "I meant to give it to you, but you left quite suddenly. And I thought an attack of wrackspurts looked eminent."

With a 'woop', the youngest Weasley swooped down on Luna, and grabbing the item, simultaneously kissed Luna on her cheek and was running out the common-room door. The girl's actions caused the hat on Luna's head to give a mighty roar, resounding loudly in the space and making Severus' ears ring.

Longbottom likewise looked stunned, but Luna looked unfazed. Blinking, Neville turned, "Come on, Luna; we don't want to be late." Severus took the opportunity to step behind the two and make it out the portrait door before it closed; the both of them none the wiser to his egress. Keeping a safe distance, his disillusioned self followed the gormless wonder and Lu—Miss Lovegood as they made their way through the abandoned corridors to the front hall.

Distantly, Severus could hear the game begin. "Why don't you go on ahead, Neville. I believe I've caught sight of a blibbering humdinger. They're very rare you know?" Luna already began drifting away from the door oblivious to the sounds of Longbottom's protests.

She rounded a corner and Severus Snape followed, curious as to what his mate was up to. And she caught him by surprise once again as his Luna—lion mane and all— with the ridiculous colored glasses perched upon her nose, looked straight up at him. "Hello, Professor Snape. I thought that was you, but I wanted to be sure." Her airy, ethereal voice carried up to him. "Are you looking for blibbering humdingers as well, sir? Although, I do not know why they would be found in the Gryffindor common room." She trailed off, wrinkling her pert nose.

With an irritated wave, Severus removed the disillusionment charm from himself and scowled down at her in disgust, "I assure you, Lu- Miss Lovegood, the Gryffindor common room is where they like to roost best."

"You really think so?" Removing her glasses, her protuberant blue eyes looked up at him inquiringly. Trusting. Severus fought a wave of desire, remembering another time, another place, and she upon him—riding him with complete abandon to their mutual completion, her fragrant golden hair, interweaved with cherry blossoms, a golden blanket encompassing them both.

He averted his eyes and cleared his throat, "Five points from Ravenclaw, Miss Lovegood, for being out of bounds. Come. I will escort you to the pitch." Right then, her hat took that moment to give a giant yowl, and Severus winced, "And another five points for over-exuberant celebration. Really, Miss Lovegood, that hat is a menace." Severus began walking, hearing her shuffling footsteps following along behind him.

He wished he could walk beside her, hold her hand as they had done in the after, but he could not. She was not his equal. He was in a position of authority over her.

They could not be lovers. They could not be friends. And next term, she would be actively working against him and have cause to hate him. And these were facts he had to recite to himself repeatedly while he maintained a polite proximity to her.

"So if you weren't looking for blubbering humdingers, sir. What were you doing in there?" Her ethereal voice carried to him. She looked up at him—only mildly interested—her question bordering on impertinence.

"Another five points for dawdling." he snapped. "Honestly, Miss Lovegood, you keep this up, and Ravenclaw will lose its position in house points long before we reach the pitch."

He looked back and saw her smile dreamily as she walked along, "You remind me of a muggle sweet I had once, professor." Severus stopped and stared at her, waiting for her to catch up to him; his eyebrow rose of its own accord. "It was hard, bitter, and black on the outside but soft and sweet once you got to its center."

Severus' mouth opened to verbally eviscerate but no sound came out. He gulped.

With a small wave, she skipped ahead of him and made her way down to the pitch.

Absently, he noted, she wore no shoes.

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	6. Chapter Six—Hell is Repetition

The After part II

Chapter Six—Hell is Repetition

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Dismissing his last class for the day, Severus made his way to his chambers and proceeded to drink. When he felt himself get more than shit-faced, he drank a sober-up potion and proceeded to repeat the process.

And this.

This was how he whiled away the hours until Albus' return with Potter.

He could do nothing to change the events; they were not his to change.

He tried, with his knowledge of past lives and the after, to look at the bigger picture—Luna would laud him for his thinking this way.

He was hopefully sending Albus to reunite with Arianna; he was hopefully _not_ consigning him to an eternity of hell.

Blearily, he looked at the clock. Soon now.

Taking another shot of sober-up potion, Severus made his way to his office. This would be where Flitwick would notify him that there were Death Eaters in the castle.

And it all would begin again.

Taking his place behind his desk, Severus waited, absently stowing away essays that were destined never to be graded and locking away the few personal affects he had not chosen to take with him in his egress from the school.

And quite suddenly, the diminutive professor was before him telling him that Death Eaters were in the Astronomy Tower, and Severus did not hesitate in stunning him. Feeling in a fog, he made his way out of his office and looked down. Luna and Granger stood before him looking anxious. He checked their eyes. They were both dilated with potion-use. Good. At least that part of the plan worked.

"Take care of Professor Flitwick." he growled gesturing to his office. He watched as the both of them made their way into it, and how he was tempted to lock and ward the doors, thereby sealing her in.

But no.

He could not change the outcome. Her wand, her skill, was needed as was Granger's. Focusing on the fact that they all of them would live through this encounter, Severus made his way to the astronomy tower; his heart a lead ball inside his chest.

He made it through the stairwell as he saw Minerva take on a masked Thorfinn Rowle. Neville and Nymphadora Tonks were dueling Fenrir Greyback and Amycus Carrow. He walked amidst them, never lessening his stride as he walked this razor's edge to the tower itself. Feeling the pulsing then allowance of wards shift and move around him, Severus walked up the last flight of stairs knowing that Potter was watching his every move whilst hiding under his damned cloak.

He looked around; the scene was so unerringly familiar. Draco and Bellatrix stood poised beside him with Alecto Carrow looking on. Bellatrix laughed and taunted as he locked eyes with Albus, Severus' own projecting hate and loathing.

"Severus. Please."

Those two words. Those two words he was destined to hear over and over again in his nightmares to come.

Those two words in both entreaty and command.

Lifting his wand, Severus summoned up the sheer hatred necessary to cast the killing curse and quickly it was done.

Grabbing an openly weeping Draco, he turned and fled the tower. All the while Bellatrix was laughing and cackling madly. He refused to feel anything.

"Come. We are leaving." he said to all assembled still battling. And like puppets with their strings cut, the combatants ceased their pursuit, and the remaining Death Eaters began to follow him.

Events had unfolded as they should.

And even now, Albus could be writhing and cold in hell.

Severus' steps faltered, and he stumbled as he made his way to the apparition point. But no, he couldn't stop for grief. There would be time enough later.

Distantly, he heard Potter yelling at him for revenge, and Severus said his lines, re-enacted the part of villain once more.

And then he was apparating away to speak with the Dark Lord; his place at the Dark Lord's right hand a certainty now that Albus was dead.

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**oOo**

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Some time later, after plans had been finalized with the Dark Lord for Severus to take over as headmaster once the Ministry did fall, after he had been praised by his fellow Death Eaters for his loyalty, his finally having shown his true nature and severing ties once and for all with the Order, Severus made his solitary way back to Spinner's End, and again, proceeded to get blindingly, blisteringly drunk.

He wondered absently what Luna would think of his current inebriated state. Would she pity or revile him? Would she blame him? Seek to hate him as they all would once the truth of his deed became known.

Would she even think anything at all?

He thought back to what she had said to him before the quidditch match, comparing him to a muggle sweet.

Even now, was she remembering that conversation and loathing him?

With a strangled moan, Severus slung back another shot of fire whisky, embracing the slow burn as it made its way down. Just how exactly had he passed this time the first go 'round?

Drunkenly, he thought back.

Why exactly as he was doing now. Saluting the room, with his tumbler-full, he took another drink.

It seemed some things never changed, knowledge of the after and its mysteries notwithstanding.

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	7. Chapter Seven— The Beginning of the End

The After part II

Chapter Seven— The Beginning of the End

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Severus sat in his seat at the high table. The term had only just begun and Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Granger, as well as many muggleborns and sympathizers had not returned.

His start of term speech had been lethally short and to the point.

His very presence there had made many of the Hufflepuffs cry.

He had found no joy in their tears.

This past week had seen him installed in the headmaster's suite; his own given once more to Slughorn. With a predatory sneer, Severus surveyed the lot of them, daring them to meet his gaze.

A few of the Slytherins, mostly children of Death Eaters, did so haughtily; their expressions quite jubilant in the somber hall. He would quickly dispel them their air of jubilation. None of the Hufflepuffs could. Nearly all of the Gryffindors; their eyes filled with the requisite hate and loathing met his eyes and held. He sneered them all into submission.

The only one who refused to cowl surprisingly enough was Longbottom.

Which left the Ravenclaws and… _her_. Again, she was table-center; her housemates surrounding her but not conversing with her. And she was staring, just staring , at him.

Unblinking.

His heart stopped.

Her cornflower blue eyes held nothing—no judgment, censure, or accusation. She blinked slowly, and Severus did the same. He saw her brow wrinkle in puzzlement, and then she was staring down, back down into the magazine that held her attention. And he—he was lost.

Her gaze had not condemned him.

Nor did it hold praise.

It was stillness, tranquility, and acceptance all together. He could have gladly drowned in those pools, could have stayed there in her stillness all day, for the rest of his days, and never, ever wanted to leave.

And she?

She was unaffected by his stare. He did not disconcert or challenge her, but merely puzzled. He could tell it.

_Puzzled_ he could understand. _Puzzled_ he could accept from her. Hatred, loathing, utter contempt—those were the emotions he could not.

And so, giving each Head of House a scowl in retaliation to their coldness, Severus rose abruptly from table and made his way to the Headmaster's suite.

"And how did they take the transition, my boy?" He looked up upon entering the Headmaster's office. Albus' portrait, his gimlet blue eyes a twinkle stood staring down at him. With a muted curse, Severus threw a freezing charm on the portrait, stunning the damned thing into silence. He breathed a sigh of relief and sat at the desk in thought.

Hearing mumbled whispering behind him, he stated casually, "Any other portraiture who deigns to talk out of turn will be met with a similar fate. I demand silence."

"Now, see here. We have just as mu—" Severus didn't hesitate. With a systematic flick of his wand, every single portrait lining the walls received the same freezing charm as Albus'.

Finally, the room was silent once more, and he could think.

He was after the horcruxes; the same mission that Potter and his friends were on, he was certain of it.

He couldn't allow them to destroy the remains of Tom Riddle's soul. So how to capture the pieces of it before they were destroyed?

His days were to be spent curtailing the Carrows and seemingly subverting the teaching staff in their attempts to do the same. Minerva would be his staunchest enemy.

Thus far, however, she had contained herself only to juvenile acts of transfiguration and mild-level disruption during staff-meetings. Flitwick was a little more cunning and dastardly in his deception. Many a night while roaming the castle, Severus had been forced to scan for seemingly innocuous trip jinxes or stinging hexes meant only for _Severus'_ magical signature to feel.

The rest of the staff kept their loathing confined to hate-filled looks and malicious gossip that carried just within his line of hearing. He had, after all, lived through this before, and he knew what to expect. A fall down the third floor corridor due to a well-placed jinx that was supposed to break his nose did not even happen thanks to his prior innate knowledge.

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**oOo**

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As the term began, detention-issuance was at an all-time low, and he thanked Merlin for small mercies.

And so, as the days bled into one another, Severus began thinking about what he could change in this timeline and what he couldn't. He knew each and every disciplinary request that had occurred this year, and so, children getting caught out of bounds by the Carrows were instead found by him and subject to detention with Hagrid.

And every day that passed, he scanned the great hall in the morning, and every morning, without fail, he would find Luna's eyes meeting his own.

He drew his strength from her calm stare, heartened by her utter lack of condemnation or approval. It was so tempting to use legilimancy on her, to find out what she really thought of him. But every time he tried, he only received a crippling headache and an image of derigible plums for his efforts.

Her mind was locked down tighter than Azkaban.

His colleagues no longer looked him in the eye—not even the Carrows. The only other person who would openly meet his stare was Longbottom, and he did not need legilimency to know what the younger man was thinking. The Slytherins, and those siding with the Dark Lord, no longer felt an air of preferential treatment; Severus was just as hard on them as any other student under the Dark Lord's regime, and the other teachers even more so.

Which left _her_; his only comfort in this particular revision of hell, and months passed in this manner. And still he had not been able to figure out the mystery surrounding the urn.

Until one fateful night.

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	8. Chapter Eight— A Fate Worse Than Death

_**A/N:** _And just b/c I really can't stand evil cliffies, here are two updates today. I would like to remind my readers that reviews and criticism are most welcome.

_**DGM**_

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Chapter Eight— A Fate Worse Than Death

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Severus had quite been at his wit's end concerning the urn and how it worked. He had studied it from every possible angle. Looked up every symbol, every lexiconic language he knew, every translation spell. His efforts yielded nothing.

In the midst of his research, he fielded inquiries from anxious parents concerning their students, gave services required to the Dark Lord, and tried to keep a fine balance between the teaching staff's revolt and the Carrows' sadistic tendencies towards the students to a minimum.

It was now the eve before the start of winter break. All children were scheduled to go back to their families on the morrow. There would be no Hogwarts Christmas Celebrations this year.

At nine, he had been summoned; a distinct tingle letting him know this was to be a gathering of pleasure: a party. Severus quickly changed his robes to reflect the mood—donning dark green and black dress robes and gathering his hair in a queue with a black strip of transfigured leather..

Leaving the castle, he quickly apparated to the Malfoy grounds. How this must gall Lucius; his ancestral estate usurped by a half-blood despot intent to rule. Severus quickly occluded his thoughts; it would not do to betray his musings and get himself killed.

He made his entrance in the drawing room and had a house-elf take his cloak and gloves. "Ah, Severus. So good of you to come." Looking up, he spied Narcissa looking a veritable jewel in dove grey silk. Lucius was just behind her; his eyes were bloodshot; he had been drinking quite heavily.

"Severus, my friend. Come in and let us fetch you a drink." He snapped his fingers and instantly a house-elf appeared with a tumbler of mead. "Our Gracious lord is most anxious to hear how the progress and changes you have instituted in Hogwart's Curriculum have affected the students' learnings." He was led along by Lucius to the Dining Room which served as a throne Room of sorts on occasions such as these.

"Say there Snape. How's it goin'?"

"Dulciber, McNair." Severus nodded to each of the men who were also waiting in line to pay their respects. Malfoy led him to the front of the queue, a subtle but distinct display of rank. The others resumed their conversation within Severus' hearing, and instead of focusing on Lucius' inane gossip, Severus listened to the other's speak.

"Yeah, I guess Carrow's happy. Wouldn't you say? He's got a school-full of delights to choose from among the young girls at Hogwarts don't he?" The two of them laughed raucously. "It wouldn't surprise me if he was scopin' one out tonight to tide him over for the holidays."

Severus betrayed none of his disgust or surprise at hearing this news. _A paedophile?_ The Dark Lord had allowed a paedophile at Hogwarts?!

He felt a small pressure on his arm, and then he was being led before the Dark Lord.

He bowed deeply before the seated man. "Severus. And how is my most loyal Death Eater faring? I trust the students are learning as they should? They are the future, Severus, and we must invest in that future accordingly."

Severus rose from his bow and nodded deeply. "Yes, my lord. The students 'activities have been a bit subdued of late. In all their subjects, they have excelled more than aptly; especially in the area of the dark arts. The house, of course, most evidenced of this is Slytherin with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff trailing slightly behind. The other three houses use the younger Gryffindor students as practice. In fact, my lord, I was actually going to propose we abolish the most un-noble house of Gryffindor once and for all." The Dark Lord laughed as Severus had intended.

"Quite, Severus. Quite; something on which to ponder at a later time. And the staff, how fare you their little rebellions?"

"Childish and petty the lot of them, but they _do_ serve their uses." Severus let his disgust and contempt bleed through in his expressions.

"Yes, well. Until next year, we must endure. I trust the Carrows are, at least, performing adequately."

Severus bowed his head, "Indeed, my lord. However, I do believe they take their ideas of discipline a bit too far at times; they are but children, and children make mistakes.

Severus watched as the Dark Lord's non-existent eyebrows rose. "Ah, but it is important for children to learn from their mistakes, Severus. And strong discipline ensures that does it not?"

"Indeed, my lord. It is as you say." Severus bowed conceding the point, "However, it is my belief that they are a bit too indiscriminant in who it is they punish. Why only last week, I saw them administering cruciatus to Elliot Dresden—a first year Ravenclaw pureblood, my lord, for the simple offense of not being able to cast it himself."

Severus saw the Dark Lord's nostrils flare menacingly. Blood superiority was of supreme importance. The Dark Lord's hand came up to caress his chin, "The Cruciatus is perhaps a bit difficult for a first year to master, Severus. You will remind the Carrows, as well as all Hogwarts staff, of my expectations regarding the school syllabus, and its instruction. _DO NOT DEVIATE_. Should an episode of that or a more severe incidence occur, I give you permission to act at will. Magical Blood is precious, and pure and half-blooded magical children must be treated as such." Severus gave another bow in obeisance. "Now, our charming hostess has created a fete of delights in which to partake. Go now, Severus and make merry with your brethren."

He stayed long enough to drink a glass of champagne and exchange witticisms with Lucius, and then made his excuses. His behavior long having been established as being somewhat of a joke, not an eye was batted at his early departure.

Hurriedly, Severus made his way back to Hogwarts; he had a bad feeling about tonight, and if there was one thing Severus had learned to do in this life as Severus Tobias Snape, it was trust his instincts. Recalling what Mulciber and McNair had said, Severus entered the castle and made his way to the closest inhabited portrait to ascertain the location of the Carrows.

And thanks to his network of portraiture, duty-bound and sworn only to him, the Hogwarts Headmaster, he knew the Carrows to be in the Muggle Studies classroom.

This was not in and of itself an unusual occurrence. Alecto Carrow taught the now bastardized subject after all. But again, a niggling feeling that something just wasn't right unsettled him, and so he made his way there.

Hearing voices, Severus glided on silent feet towards the door. It had been locked and warded but fortunately, not silenced. "She was caught out of bounds and painting on the walls again. What do you think her punishment should be?" Severus heard a woman speak softly, but he couldn't make out the words. "Oh, come on, Alecto, they say this one's as daft as a June bug anyway. Old Snape's been called away, the holiday's upon us, and besides who would believe her? You're not gonna talk, are you sweet?" Severus heard a slap. "Let me have my fun."

Severus' blood ran cold.

With a swipe of his hand, he dispelled the wards and opened the door with a resounding clang.

His worst fears had been realized.

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	9. Chapter Eight continued– A Healing Chant

Chapter Eight continued– The Healing Chant

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He found Luna bound and gagged bent double over a wooden desk, tears streaming down her face as Amycus Carrow, pants around his knees, positioned himself behind her. Her homespun lavender dress was rucked up past her hips, her haunches bared for all to see. With two flicks of his wand, both Carrows were disarmed, and Luna was released from her binds. With a small cry, she quickly moved away and lowered her skirts, putting her back to the wall to watch them all.

With a wave of his wand, the door behind them was closed, locked, warded, and silenced, and Severus had Amycus Carrow dragged before him. Another flick and a mumbled incantation, and the younger man screamed in agony as Severus gelded him—but slowly, gritting his teeth in hatred as he performed the severing charm. Once completed, he spat in the younger man's face, "_This_ is the punishment the Dark Lord metes out for those that would seek to defile pureblooded children in such a manner. I find this behavior repugnant, and I happen to know our lord would find it unpleasant as well." The man's pain-filled cries turned to howls of agony.

His sister Alecto cried over her brother's screams. "But she was writing horrid things about our lord, and they told us to kidnap her and take her to the manor-like." With another flick of his wand, Alecto's face swiveled widely and grew red from the phantom slaps Severus had delivered each of her cheeks. He administered a bout of cruciatus for good measure, letting the fury and fear he felt take full reign. She fell writhing on the floor as she cried out in pain.

At length, he stated calmly, fury infusing his velvet voice, "Do not speak to me. Your _fun_ has quite come to an end. From here on in, you will have one of the other teachers bring every student who disobeys to me personally to mete out punishment. You will no longer be allowed to give or preside over detention. You are not to be left alone with any student—pure or half-blooded for any reason whatsoever. The only—_and I do mean only_—action you both can commit against any of these children is the docking of house points. Do I make myself clear?" His voice had reached lethal menace.

The both of them shook their heads. "**DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?**" he roared. And all assembled jumped including Luna.

"Y-yes, Sna—Headmaster Snape."

"Y-yes sir."

"Good. Alecto, get your brother to the infirmary. Tell Madam Pomfrey to give him nothing for the pain as he is to live with it as a reminder. I expect you both to attend your morning duties. Oh, and rest assured, I will be reporting this incident to our lord, and no doubt he will want to mete out further punishment. You are dismissed." Severus disabled the wards and allowed the door to open. With a cry, Alecto grabbed her brother and running, half-dragged him out the door.

Severus turned to Luna; she had not moved from her position in the corner, and he realized she was trembling. Summoning her wand to him, he walked over to her, and presented it to her slowly, wand-tip pointed towards himself.

Her eyes were downcast.

She refused to look at him as she took her wand and stowed it behind her ear. He lowered himself so he was kneeling before her. "Are you alright? Did he—?" Severus trailed off, unable to ask such a question.

She shook her head no. "Do we need to go to the infirmary, Miss Lovegood?"

Again, she shook her head in the negative, her eyes lifting and found his. She stated quietly, "He didn't…wasn't able to do… _that…_ before you arrived, professor." Severus noticed that her lip was swollen and bleeding. Lifting his hand, he lightly touched the area and singing an incantation under his breath, watched as the skin knit back together. She flinched when his hand rested on her cheek to take away the swelling.

He felt his heart stutter in dread.

Never. Never would he_, could he_ hurt her.

"Where else did they hurt you, Miss Lovegood?" Severus stated quietly, checking over the parts of her he could see. He lifted up the sleeves of her school robes to find places on her arms that were in the beginning stages of bruising. Putting his hands over these areas as well, he sung the incantation necessary to remove the swelling and the discoloration, leaving behind a tingling trail of warmth in its wake.

"Where else?" he stated quietly in the stillness. He watched as she licked her recently-healed lip and gestured vaguely to her hips. Tightening his lips, Severus lifted one side of the girl's skirt, careful to protect as much of her modesty as he could, and bared her on one side to the hip while keeping the front and back of her clothed.

Like many purebloods, Luna did not believe in wearing undergarments of any nature underneath her robes. The belief, an old one, stemmed from the school of thought that mounds of clothing bound and impeded a witch's or wizard's intrinsic magic. And in order to tap into their full potential, pureblooded witches and wizards wore as few clothes as possible, sometimes going skyclad if there were major workings to be done. With the advent of the Victorian era, however, this belief quickly fell out of fashion, but it did not surprise Severus in the least that the daughter of Xenophilius Lovegood chose to remain a _naturalist_.

He quickly saw the problem. Carrow's handprint marred her hip and lower back. Severus could not, would not think on his anger at the moment. He occluded it all, steering his thoughts instead to those of healing and love.

Turning her trembling form around to face the wall and baring her other hip to him, he saw the twin impression. The incantation he was using to heal her was old; ancient magic meant to be sung as magic transferred itself from the healer's hands to his or her beloved. The spell was for husbands to give to their wives, mothers to give to their children. It was magic of bonding, of blood. In performing the spell, Severus was gifting a bit of his magic, his health, to her and also absorbing a fraction of her pain during the process. The rest would be banished away.

He inhaled, trying to discover if she feared him. She was no longer trembling, but that didn't mean much. Fear would lessen the impact of the spell somewhat, for trust must be established between the giver and the receiver. "Do you trust me, Miss Lovegood?" Severus asked quietly to her back.

After but a moment, he saw her nod carefully, her eyes closed as she faced the wall, and Severus felt his heart clench. He placed his fingers where Amycus Carrow's hate-filled fingers had rested but a few moments before. He felt her begin to tremble beneath him, and his heart gave another clench as quietly, he began to sing.

He felt the magic flare between them as his hands tingled with gentle warmth from where he held her.

Like her other injuries, he imprinted them on himself, to a substantially lesser degree. She swayed back slightly on her heels as the full measure of the soothing chant coursed through her, warming her blood. And then she was resting against him, her slight form held still in his embrace as he finished the chant and lowered her dress once more.

Upon the spell's completion, he heard her give a small sigh; her trusting, pliant warmth a balm to his loneliness, his isolation. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply of her sun-drenched, cherry-blossomed scent, not daring to think what could have happened had he not followed his instincts and returned in time.

Drawing in one more soothing breath, he let it flutter out into the mound of spun gold at his cheek, and as he rose, he gently pushed her away from him.

"I would like for you to follow me, Miss Lovegood." he stated softly. Severus watched as she nodded, her blue orbs wide and a bit overwhelmed. "Do not worry. You are not in trouble. But I trust that you will never be caught out of bounds again?" Severus raised his eyebrow inquiringly, and she shook her head once in the negative. He smiled sadly, "Hogwarts is not safe, Lun—Miss Lovegood. I might not be around should something like this happen again— as it is, it could possibly mean the end of everything that I've—that we've— worked so hard to accomplish against those that would seek to subjugate and destroy. And I—" he jumped slightly as he felt her cool hand cup his cheek.

His heart thumped once painfully in his chest. Their times-old gesture of comfort and love.

_Did she remember, could she remember him?_! He looked into her eyes searching. He found donning understanding but no love or recognition in her gaze. His galloping heart stuttered with disappointment. "I understand, Professor Snape." she gave him a sad little smile and lowered her hand once more. "I promise it will not happen again."

Gulping, Severus nodded, and turning his back on her, led the way to the Room of Requirement asking the Room for a quiet, comfortable place that would set his mate at ease.

"I trust you are quite familiar with this Room, Miss Lovegood?" Severus looked over his shoulder as he gestured that she enter before him.

"Yes, Professor." He was pleased to observe that her coloring was a little better, no longer the pale grey it was just after her ordeal, and her eyes were returning to their natural serene state without the air of watchful wariness.

"And I also trust you to keep the knowledge that I am about to impart to yourself and no other?" The Luna-esque glaze was coming back to her, and Severus smiled slightly. One foot in this temporal plane, one foot out—that was _his_ Luna.

She nodded as she looked around. The room had provided two comfy chairs next to a blazing hearth and a tea service complete with some kind of honey-biscuit. When Luna set her eyes on it, she made for it, fixing herself a plate and tea and proceeding to tuck in. Severus' lips twitched to see the witch recovering and nodded his approval. He fixed himself some tea, but upon sniffing it, thought better…it smelled of gurdyroot.

The Room then provided a snifter of Ogden's Best and Severus sipped carefully studying the young woman before him. After eating a few of the honeyed biscuits and drinking a full cup of the concoction, she had relaxed into the comfy chair and was curled up basking in the fire's warmth. As he watched, a blanket appeared over her, and her eyes grew heavy.

He looked at the clock. It was midnight. He would let her sleep for a few hours; the amnesiac bliss of sleep a balm necessary in order to distance herself from the experience. With a flick of his wand, he set a low-level alarm to chime and warn him of the time. He trusted the portraits to fetch him if any of the staff or students needed his attention.

Continuing to sip his whiskey, Severus pondered the young witch before him: so stoic and brave, so full of wisdom, and yet, so naïve, innocent, and filled with a quiet playfulness that could exacerbate as much as amuse.

He yawned. Where this one young woman was concerned, his cover as evil headmaster was effectively blown. As was her kidnapping.

Had this been what had happened last year? It must have been for this was around the time that she was kidnapped. She had been raped, his Luna; raped by that bastard before she had been taken to the manor and held in the dungeons until her death.

But she wouldn't be in this version of events.

No. Because he had chosen to actively listen to Mulciber and McNair instead of Lucius.

After all, he had known exactly what Lucius was going to say and had only to repeat his lines accordingly, and because of his foreknowledge, his mate had avoided being used in such a vile manner. And now, she wouldn't be held in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor.

But how to circumvent the Dark Lord's plans for her?

Like as not, the Dark Lord wanted her held prisoner at the manor; the elder Lovegood had made quite a nuisance of himself in opposition to the lies the _Prophet_ spoke, and he wanted those inconvenient truths kept quiet.

But perhaps…perhaps he could convince the Dark Lord that hiding Luna at the school was really in everyone's best interest. His mind spun with possibilities and arguments for and against his cause.

He would have to tell her of his plan. He had been thinking of it for a while, but he had not seen the need for such extreme measures as what he would propose. He did now. As his mind continued to turn and make plans, the weariness and exhaustion of the day caught up with him, and he felt his eyes grow heavy as he looked upon the girl's slumbering form.

She was now fully asleep; her pert nose buried under the blanket, her hair a golden halo lit by firelight. His eyes closed. This was the first time since he had arrived yet again in this accursed situation that Severus felt a semblance of peace settle upon him. Having such musings, he fell into a light sleep; his mind a fitful state even as his soul rejoiced to be so near its beloved.

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	10. Chapter Nine— Keep Away from

_**A/N**_: To my readers, thank you very much for taking time to read my story! Your input and critique is most appreciated.

_**DGM**_

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Chapter Nine— Keep Away from the Derigible Plums

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Severus awoke to the low-level buzzing of his alarm, his senses alert and hyper-attuned to his surroundings. He looked up to find Luna seated before him, eyes dreamily staring at him from above the blanket covering her.

She had been doing so for a while, but his senses had not felt her doing so; it was just another measure for him in how much he trusted her. How much her mere presence comforted.

Inwardly, Severus groaned. _She was his student first, his soul's mate second_. She could not be made aware of that fact. It was a condition upon their return. Besides, as her professor, he held a position of authority over her. Grimacing in disgust, he straightened his posture in the chair, his hips giving a slight protest from where he had taken the bruises from her from earlier.

"You were going to speak to me, sir?" Her eyes held a hint of curiosity.

Sitting up, Severus took a moment to gather his thoughts. At length, he stated, "Yes. I would like for you to use this room as a hideout for other students; the Carrows will use my actions tonight against you, as well as others targeted for their abuse, and you will all need a safe place to go. Dobby." Severus summoned the elf, and he appeared instantly at his side.

The diminutive creature had its ears down; his poorly knitted hat sat askew on his head as he looked up at him in fear. "Yes, Hogwarts' master. How can Dobby serve?"

"Dobby, you are being reassigned to Miss Lovegood. Watch over her, care for her, make sure no harm befalls her, and always listen should she call. Miss Lovegood, this is Dobby. He will provide you and the other students you feel who need to take advantage of the comforts and accommodations of this room, food and drink from the Hogwarts kitchens as well as medical supplies from the Infirmary. Thank you, Dobby, that will be all."

Severus dismissed the little creature with a nod of his head, and watched as his mate gave the elf a tentative smile. With a small pop, he apparated away. "The Room will provide everything else you shall need. Do not leave it for any reason Miss Lovegood. The Carrows will be out for blood and will see in you the cause of their recent misfortune, never mind the fallacy of their thinking. It would be best if you stayed out of sight."

She nodded slightly showing she understood. "Good. Now, I need to set you a task." He contemplated her over his steepled fingers, his eyes never once leaving her. She sat up straighter, slightly more attentive, and he nodded.

"I have tried over the course of several months to penetrate your mind through legilimency, and I have been markedly unsuccessful. Can you tell me why that is so?"

He raised one eyebrow as she smiled slightly, enigmatically. "My thoughts are my own, professor, but I do not consciously seek to keep others out of them nor invite them in."

His eyes narrowed. "Are you telling me you are completely unaware that you are occluding, Miss Lovegood?"

She nodded hesitantly, and Severus took a moment to think. If she were to go before the Dark Lord, then he would automatically see her as a beacon due to the very absence of thought activity going on inside her mind. However, if he could teach her how to broadcast low-level thoughts while keeping the rest hidden, he might be able to have her help him with more than just renegade students.

"Look into my eyes, Miss Lovegood." Severus watched as she blinked and her abstract focus settled on him. "Ligilimens."

Immediately, Severus saw an image of dirigible plums and received for his pains a crushing, crippling headache. He immediately pulled out of her thoughts. "Could you feel my invasion, Miss Lovegood?" Clutching his temples, he rubbed slightly.

"Yes, professor. It felt like a small buzzing, almost like a wrackspurt attack, in the back of my skull." She gestured to the part of her head that was affected by the spell. He nodded, and conjuring a glass of water, Severus downed a vial of headache relief potion.

"What you have, Miss Lovegood, is an impenetrable mind. Under normal circumstances, this would be considered an excellent thing to have. However, your lack of superficial activity is a beacon to those that are masters in the art of legilimency."

She smiled slightly, "And therefore I make myself more of a target?"

"Precisely. You'll find those with such skill are very much lured to mystery. And you present them with far too tempting a challenge. To force their way past your defenses would cripple your mind and all but kill you." He narrowed his eyes in thought. "However, if we can keep your mind impenetrable but send out low-level thoughts—"

"Like a camouflage?"she interrupted excitedly, "The Gristlevald Fangletooth uses such a technique to escape detection from those that would seek to do it harm."

His lips twitched as he looked over at her in exasperation, remembering just in time the role of Professor Snape that he was supposed to be playing, he stated, "Do not interrupt me, Miss Lovegood! And keep that mind of yours focused on realities not extemporaneous fiction. Now, as I was saying, if you were able to allow low-level thoughts to penetrate your defenses but kept your mental fortress impenetrable, then you would be all but undetectable according to cursory scans. I want you to think of your mind as an ocean instead of a wall. Can you consciously do this?"

He watched as she shut her eyes in concentration. "When you are ready, look at me." At length, she opened her eyes, and bracing himself, Severus muttered, "Legilimens."

Cool water surrounded him, calm, tranquil. The sea on a calm night. There was no longer pain from where he entered her. He looked around. The wall was still there, obvious and tempting. He spoke aloud, still keeping within her thoughts, "See if you can subvert the wall, Miss Lovegood. Bury it in the sea like Atlantis. Protected but hidden away." As he watched, the wall began to sink into the ocean with nary a ripple. Great Merlin! Her mental agility was incredible. It had taken him years to perfect that kind of thought imagery.

She had done it in a manner of seconds, and he mentally shook his head, slightly in awe of his mate.

"Now, what did you have for a snack a moment ago, Miss Lovegood?" He saw a thought bubble its way to the surface. A picture of the honey-oat cakes and gurdyroot tea floated before him. "Good. And how do you perform a lynxanthra charm?" He saw an image of herself float to the surface muttering the correct incantation as well as performing the correct wand movement.

He gave a mental nod, and with her distracted, began to push and find her subverted wall. Finding it, he received a crippling headache for his pains. He grunted, "Reign in your wall, Luna—Miss Lovegood. You are over-defending, and therefore, making yourself more vulnerable. Ease your defenses." he finished quietly. Severus immediately felt an easing of the crushing on his skull as more thoughts, more emotions began to float up from the tranquil sea.

He saw her that morning in Transfiguration explaining to her classmates how the Venomous Tentacular Hydra could transfigure at will into an office chair. She then proceeded to transfigure her orange effortlessly into a purple patterned umbrella and back again much to Minerva's exasperated amusement. She had had to give the girl full marks even though she had been admonished, yet again, to stay on topic.

He saw her being teased by her housemates that evening. As he watched, she was taunted by a group of younger students, calling her that absurd nickname. She took it in stride even as they took her belongings and began hiding them all over the Ravenclaw common room. Gathering up her completed homework, she shrank and pocketed it, then tucked her wand behind her ear and left them to it, leaving the common room for the Owlery.

She stayed up there for hours, it seemed, grooming and caring for the birds; only coming down when it was close to curfew. Seemingly in a tangent on her way to the Ravenclaw common room, Luna veered left near a relatively empty wall devoid of paintings. Taking her wand, she wrote in brilliant gold, silver, and blue letters, _Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars. -Khalil Gibran, muggle. _ Upon completion, she turned, and that was when the Carrows had spotted her and brought her to the Muggle Studies classroom.

Severus watched with renewed fury as the two taunted and belittled her, having disarmed, bound and gagged her upon seeing her quotation. When they could not get a reaction, they decided to try a host of stinging hexes aimed at various parts of her anatomy. Luna bore this all with stoic grace, not even making a sound.

Amycus began to play with her hair, pinching and slapping her body—her rump, trying to talk his sister into letting him abuse her. And then his talk grew to action, and Severus saw himself as he burst through the door, looking, through Luna's eyes, as some dark, demented avenging angel swooping in a billow of blackened fury. Severus did have to admit his expression was murderous. The memory drifted back into the water, and gently, Severus left her thoughts.

"I thought you'd like to see, sir; they did nothing that could be considered lasting or severe." Severus was dumbfounded by her words. Her tone of voice was even and could be construed as kind. No one would think she was talking about attempted rape. Her voice, her manner. So even and placid: to hear her side of it, it would be akin to the pranks he watched performed on her earlier this evening by her housemates!

Something within him snapped as he rose to his feet, pacing in front of her. "And this is your problem, my girl. You _never_ hold anyone else accountable for his or her actions towards you! You see it all as part of the _grand design_. _Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls, _indeed." He gestured grandly, not bothering to hide his expression of disgust as he came to a stop inches before her seated form.

He leaned down until he was right in her face, snarling, "You were almost vilely abused, and yet, I get the feeling you would have taken _that_ in stride as well. Can you honestly tell me after everything you've been through, everything you've had to endure, that you have no sense of self preservation? No sense of self?"

He saw her smile the slightest bit in his direction, her hand coming to rest upon his cheek. And his temper ratcheted up further. He turned away and continued to pace, his black robes billowing furiously, "NO! Oh no. Of course not; I have forgotten to whom I'm speaking! Rage at injustice—_rage at anything at all_—any violent or turbulent emotion you do not deign to feel."

He gesticulated wildly, "Always logic, resignation and acceptance. Well, those emotions that you refuse to feel are there for a reason, my girl. They're there for self-preservation; something for which, time and again, you have shown a distinct lack of regard. Luna—" He stopped before her chair, breathing heavily, and cupped her cheek.

Her eyes and mouth were opened in sheer astonishment. With a start, Severus came back to himself and quickly removed his hand. Turning his back, he stated lowly, "I—….I apologize, Lun—Miss Lovegood. I forget myself; it will not happen again." He made for the door. "Remember, you are not to leave this room until I give my explicit permission. Do I have your word?" Severus placed his hand on the handle and waited for her reply.

"I—I promise…professor." He closed his eyes at the sweet sound of her voice even as she addressed him by his title.

His shoulders drooped. "Very well. Call Dobby should you have need of anything the Room does not provide. Also summon him if you have need of me. I will come as soon as I'm able. In the meantime, work on refining your occlumency. I expect a marked improvement come tomorrow evening."

Opening the door, Severus strode out and then shut it softly behind him. He watched as it disappeared becoming a solid wall once more, and he leaned against it, drawing several deep breaths trying to calm his emotions.

And this was exactly why she vexed him!

It wasn't so much that she was foolishly brave, even though at times she could be as much as any Gryffindor. And it wasn't so much that she was incredibly kind even though her benevolence of spirit and generosity towards her fellow man were equal to that of any Hufflepuff. No. It was in her innate intellect where the problem lie:

If one looked at a house afire so abstractly as to not see the details, knowing they're there but paying them no heed; if one just saw the artistry, the philosophy of it all, seeing the colors and the pattern, and where it all fit so seamlessly in the grand scheme; if one can see and know all of this innately, but doesn't have enough common sense or sense of self to get out of the goddamned building, then where exactly did that leave one?

Violently jerking himself away from the wall, Severus began to stalk the corridors once more, his expression thunderous, his robes a billow. Remembering Flitwick's pension for jinxes and hexes just in time, he managed to make his way back to the headmaster's office relatively unscathed.

Silence greeted him upon his return as he had yet to remove the still-life spells from the portraits. Having lived through all of this before, there was nothing new Albus could say that he didn't already know or could not infer. And so, for the rest of the night and on into morning, Severus completed paperwork and stewed about his mate's shortcomings all the while feeling petty satisfaction in having effectively shocked the hell out of her by his behavior.

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	11. Chapter Ten— An Apology of Eight

Chapter Ten— An Apology of Eight

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If he could get Luna's mind to be disguised as well as all but impenetrable, then maybe, just maybe, he could have her help him solve the mystery of the urn. Not for the first time, he wondered why it was shrouded in such mystery in the first place, but then again, it was a celestial object. His mind centered on the predicament in which he now found himself—and Luna as well. The Dark Lord would need to be notified and possibly persuaded that it would be in Miss Lovegood's best interest to remain at Hogwarts under his supervision.

With her not being kidnapped, he had effectively prevented her premature death.

But what did this mean?

Had he changed the events of time so much by performing this one act? Severus didn't know, couldn't see. And with a start, he realized it wasn't for him to do so. It would be something to look and discuss with Luna in the after. Nodding, he laid the groundwork for entreating an audience with the Dark Lord by messaging Lucius via his dark mark. The mark held within it a protean charm, and as such, could transmit messages back and forth between its recipients. However, this was a privilege few seldom exercised as each of the messages passed before the Dark Lord's scrutiny.

It wasn't long before he felt the burn of the mark keenly, telling him he had an audience with his lord. Anticipating this, Severus had his mask and cloak at the ready and made for the apparition point in measured haste.

After enduring an hour and several exhausting bouts of legilimency in the presence of the Dark Lord, Severus returned to Hogwarts, confident that his cobbled together scheme would hold. Thank Merlin Luna was the only student Carrow had yet tried to force himself upon!

Luna was safe; she would be held, hidden and protected at Hogwarts under the guise of being kidnapped, and Amycus Carrow, right at this very moment, was receiving the Dementor's kiss.

Severus smiled cruelly, feeling the exhaustion of the past thirty-six hours catch up with him. The castle was devoid of life—many of the staff had departed as soon as the students had left. And so the portraits, ghosts, Mr. Filch, and Sybill Trelawney were all that remained in addition to Luna and himself. A rumor, manufactured by Lucius, would ensure that Lovegood knew his daughter had been taken but not exactly where. This would, hopefully, discourage any more of his printed rebellion; at least, for Xenophilius Lovegood and his daughter's sake, Severus hoped.

The Dark Lord had made it expressly plain that Luna was to be treated strictly but fairly. She was, after all, a pureblooded female, and as such, was a very valuable commodity to the greater wizarding world. Climbing into bed, Severus smiled viciously as he thought of what the Dark Lord had done to Carrow before he unleashed the Kiss. It had made the gelding Severus had administers seem a garden party.

His only complaint was that it had been too quickly done; had the man had to suffer for months, years even, it still would have been too quickly done. The muscles of Severus' jaw hardened as he thought back to what almost happened, what he had almost not prevented. And another time, another place—another life—flashed before his mind's eye:

Luna standing on a pyre, head shaved, eyes imploring _Severus!_ She was nude; they had stripped her, carved 'whore of Babylon' and 'succubus' on her thighs and swollen stomach in etchings that had dug into her tender-white and distended belly and riddled it with blood. Her cornflower blue eyes crying, pleading to him. _Severus! Severus, why?_ _Why did you betray me, betray us?!_

His mind refused to still once this torrent of thought suppressed had been unleashed. Why, indeed? Why had he betrayed her, betrayed them both? They had loved and loved well. She had been expecting their child. And she had been tortured and burned to death as a witch—irony of ironies—for enchanting one of the brethren to sin.

Suddenly, sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. Rising, Severus began to pace the floor of the headmaster's bedchamber, drawing absolutely no comfort whatsoever from his sumptuous surroundings as he thought. The after, and celestials, required balance. And Luna's quote that she wrote upon the wall was in essence the Celestial philosophy in totem: _Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars._

Great suffering built character. Out of that suffering came wisdom. Many souls who chose the path of reincarnation, did so in order to build wisdom and character. The more outer strife, the more troubled one's vessel, the more wisdom and experience was gained in the after. That was not to say that the point of living was pain and misfortune. In fact, life seven for both Severus and Luna had been idyllic; they had been able to let their gifts and intellects shine and flourish. But a price had to be paid for that utopic bliss.

Thus setting the groundwork for life eight.

Severus was supposed to have lived out the remainder of life eight as a fallen monk.

Alone and cloistered once more in monastery with his brothers, he was to have lived with the burning guilt, the ever-present shame of having consigned his beloved to a most gruesome death through his single act of unknowing betrayal. Severus couldn't face it, couldn't face the pain of it, and so, he had calmly walked into the sound one morning, for he couldn't swim, and was never heard from again.

The vessel of Severus Tobias Snape was appealing for many reasons to him. Since he had committed suicide in life eight, he could not journey onwards to life nine, the same as Luna. And so, he needed redemption in the form of the many difficulties, hardships, and challenges the life of Severus Tobias Snape would bring. Lily and James, both a part of his soul group, had volunteered to accompany him.

He would still be betraying the woman he loved, this time Lily, to a horrid fate, and he would still have to live with the guilt that this decision had wrought. He would also be playing the role of master spy, a part that appealed to his world-centered nature completely, as well as dealing with the outcast and depressive tendencies the vessel of Severus Tobias Snape would bring. In essence, he would be reaping a massive amount of wisdom and experience after life eight's successful completion.

He remembered Luna's final admonishments as he made to depart for life eight's second attempt:

"Severus, really? You know how suicide-prone you can be when faced with numerous obstacles. Pick an easier vessel; the body of Severus Tobias Snape presents too much a challenge."

He had looked over at his mate, her sunshine-colored robes juxtaposed with the mulish caste of her chin and eyes. Her serious expression. And with her hands on her hips, she looked like a particularly vicious blond harridan.

He drew her up against him, holding her close. "Quiet, my heart. It will be alright, you shall see."

"But—"

Severus had silenced her with a finger to her lips, "Enough. I have already chosen; I leave in a moment."

"But—" she had spoken around his finger. Severus had swooped and captured her lips to halt her admonishments. She broke away, "But what if you become too focused on the issues of the world, Severus? What if you lose sight of all that's important?"

"Luna." Tension and frustration were evident in his tone, even as he hugged her closer to him, inhaling her cherry blossomed scent, imprinting it.

She had pulled back and looked up at him, "No. I won't be there Severus to remind and aid you. You are going it alone, and I think it's too much for you to handle by yourself especially considering the life you just left, Severus! Besides, Lily and James will die early on, and the only one left in our soul group in a position to assist you towards the end is going to be Harry. And it's quite clear your vessel has a distinct hatred for him." She had placed her hand on his cheek, and Severus closed his eyes in remembrance of her entreating look, "Please pick an easier life, an easier vessel. We can catch you up on experience later." Her blue eyes begged him, entreating.

He had kissed her, pouring his frustration, longing, and pent-up emotion into the kiss. "I'm going as Severus Tobias Snape, Luna, and that's the end of it. I will not have you journeying on without me, just as I will not have us being unequal in terms of life experience and wisdom learned." He had kissed her a final, lingering time before getting ready to depart. "Please understand I do this for us."

She had nodded reluctantly and pulled back to watch him go, and as he began to journey, he heard her say softly, "Just don't let the world be too much with you Severus. Please hold to what you know is true." Holding out her hand in entreaty, Severus had seen sadness and much reluctance present in her cornflower blue eyes as he had journeyed forward.

And upon life eight second attempt's death, the soul of Severus Tobias Snape found himself in hell, a worse fate for his folly than even he or Luna could have ever imagined. _Don't let the world be too much with you_. Luna's admonishments echoed, resounding in his thoughts. Coming back to the headmaster's chambers once more, Severus blinked into the darkness of the outermost tower. Yes, he almost paid ultimately for his folly.

And Luna, Luna had almost paid dearly last night.

Try as he might to relegate her thwarted rape to the grand design, Severus simply couldn't. It served no purpose, having her abused so vilely. He had already betrayed his love, and Merlin knew Luna did not need the experience.

But then again, perhaps she did? Perhaps the celestials had seen fit to remind her of what can happen when one loses sight of worldly concerns? He had no doubt that the messages she had been writing on the wall were for him; her soul's consciousness providing a gentle reminder to both of them for what was at stake.

Lying down on the bed, Severus closed his eyes, weariness and fatigue plaguing him. He occluded his emotions and focused on the fact of Luna being safe, held in the castle with him, where, for the time being, none could harm her.

With this pleasant thought, Severus finally allowed himself to sleep.

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	12. Chapter Eleven— Dinner and a Vow

Chapter Eleven— Dinner and a Vow

She had not summoned him via the house elf, and Severus was at once disappointed and relieved. He had spent the day sequestered, getting caught up on Hogwarts' business and finalizing his plans for the underground rebellion he and Luna would be forming inside the castle.

At least Amycus Carrow was gone. The Dark Lord had requested Thorfinn Rowle to take over training in the Dark Arts, and Severus was at once relieved and uneasy to have someone nominally higher in the Dark Lord's service fill the cursed position.

It would make his job of spy that much harder as Rowle's behavior was not something for which Severus could predict as he had not lived through it yet. All the more reason then for him to institute his small rebellion, and he would begin tonight.

Severus made his way to the Room of Requirement; a small door to the Room appearing when he walked back and forth and focused on needing to find Luna. He blinked upon opening the door. Pure white light poured from above banishing every shadow as Severus took in the changes his mate had wrought with her presence of all of one unoccupied day.

There was a painting begun on the far wall; a marvelous painting reminiscent of his time spent with her in their after. The cherry blossomed tree was there as were the brilliant hues his love was so fond of utilizing. As he watched, she completed the sketch of a purely mythical creature—a fiery— and began to fill it with brilliant red, orange, and gold color.

She had a gift of artistry—his Luna—always present in each life she lived; whereas his gift was his voice. How many hours, years, and lifetimes had he whiled away watching his love thusly? Making a flat, unimportant surface quicken to life with the intrinsic magic of her hands, her soul?

Blinking from his trance, Severus cleared his throat. She stilled, as unmoving as a rabbit caught in the crosshairs.

Severus winced. "My apologies, Miss Lovegood. I did not mean to startle you."

Severus caught her momentary look of surprise, but then she turned and smiled slightly in welcome, "It's alright, sir. Are you here to test my occlumency?" She looked up at him, pale eyebrows raised in interest.

Severus gave her no warning, "_Legilimens_." However, he was immediately adrift on a vast and tranquil sea, Luna's low-level thoughts lowly broadcasting below its surface. The elf had been by with trays of food and drink that had gone ignored. She had not eaten today, it seemed, and her hunger, having been ignored in favor of her painting, was making itself known. Probing delicately, he looked for her wall. He could not find it, no matter where or how deeply he looked.

Drawing a mental breath, he delved further under the water where he encountered some kind of creature that had him swimming rapidly to the surface of her thoughts in somewhat of a blind panic.

It had looked remarkably like the Dark Lord.

"Did you like the addition of the Loxytwill, sir?" Severus came back to his own mind with a blink and looked down at the little blond baggage standing below him.

"Exceptionally inspired." he dryly replied. Regaining his composure once more, he stated, "You have not eaten at all today."

She blinked up at him ingenuously. "I have not felt the need for food, sir."

"You lie, Miss Lovegood. I've read your hunger keenly in your thoughts but a moment before."

She blinked. "So you did." And turning, she returned once more to the mural painting to take up her paints and pallet again.

He growled, "Dobby."

Immediately the elf appeared looking diminutive and contrite. "Is Dobby in trouble, sir? He did try to get young Miss to eat. Yes Dobby did." He began pulling and tugging on his ears, already punishing himself for the perceived slight.

Severus snapped, "You will not punish yourself! I want you to bring a tray of food for both Miss Lovegood and myself, and from here on, do not allow Miss Lovegood to skip meals. You may vanish her paints and supplies if you have to."

"Yes, Hogwarts master, sir." He bowed and disappeared with a snap. Two trays appeared moments later on the two wingback chairs before the fire.

With an irritable wave of his hand, Severus vanished her paints and supplies himself, leaving her empty-handed and blinking up at him. "Your dinner." he bowed mockingly, and seating himself in a wing-back chair, proceeded to methodically tuck in.

She wandered over to the chair and seated herself lightly before him. Taking her fork, she began to eat, and Severus gave a mental nod of approval. He knew why she did not eat. One of her avoidance mechanisms was to cease taking care of herself—her vessel—when she was faced with life's obstacles. Whereas he would immerse himself in worldly woe—and drink— she would seek comfort in her imagination through creation in order to forget. Both were equally destructive without the temperance of the other for balance.

At length, Severus asked, "Miss Lovegood, have you thought any more about the idea proposed concerning this room?"

She nodded, "Yes, sir. I think it a good one. It is especially because this room can wander around the castle you know?" She patted the arm chair she was seated on fondly like a beloved pet. Severus rolled his eyes.

"Yes, but do you have anything more constructive to add?"

She shrugged, "I would like to continue education with the D.A. Our knowledge and experience is going to be needed before this is over I think." Putting down her half-finished tray, she began to twirl her wand in her fingers in thought. Wandlessly, Severus levitated the tray back up to her lap and gave her a pointed stare.

"_Eat_." This was not a request. And reluctantly, she did as commanded, picking up her spoon and finishing her soup, bread, and pumpkin juice.

Once completed, he nodded and banished both trays to the kitchen.

At length, she broke the silence between them. "Why, sir?"

He didn't pretend to misunderstand. And at the same time, a student presuming to question his actions would surely have had Severus Snape, Potion's Master and Hogwarts current Headmaster replying in an acid tongue with a verbal set-down at the very least.

Anyone else perhaps but never her.

One question, three letters, and a multitude of consequences for all the answers he could provide: because he had been young and foolish and was forced into it, because he was trying to atone for actions past and killing Albus Dumbledore was truly a mercy, because he was trying to gain enough experience, enough wisdom born from strife to equal her so that they could journey together into the after.

He finally settled on the most uncomplicated truth. "Because he asked me to." Simple. Unadorned.

Briefly, he wondered if she would believe him.

Severus watched as she went in on herself, and he knew she was weighing the information presented her. She would not ask him to explain; that was not her way. But she would continue to observe and come to her own judgment in time.

At length, she nodded. "What is it you would ask of me, sir?"

Honest open frankness, the bald truth in her cerulean depths. Her eyes that had shared in his laughter and pain; eyes that had watched him hold countless of their children. He started, realizing he had lost himself in her eyes, her soul. Merlin, how long had he been staring? Clearing his throat, he stated, "I have a project, Miss Lovegood that needs your utmost discretion, and your assistance. But first, I would have an oath."

He watched as she grew introspective at his words. And so it came down to this, to trust. Could she trust what she knew of him through what he had revealed to her? Would she base her trust on the behavior of two days time spent in somewhat close proximity as well as the months previous that he had met her unblinking stare in the great hall?

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She nodded, and Severus tried not to let his relief at her decision appear noticeable. Standing, he held out his wand tip pointed towards her; he watched as, standing, she mirrored his movement. "Do you, Miss Lovegood, pledge to keep what I impart to you secret from all others until your death?"

"I do." No hesitation given. Severus watched as the magical strands from the vow wove between them wrapping around their hands, wrists, then arms, binding them for a moment together. His mind remembered other times and other vows given betwixt one another in other lives. Closing the binding oath with a murmured incantation, Severus motioned that they should be seated once more and summoned Dobby.

The small creature appeared instantly, "How may Dobby serve Hogwarts Master and Miss?"

"Dobby, I want you to go to my chambers. There you will find a white funery urn. Bring it here."

The elf left with a pop, and Severus began, "Are you at all familiar, Miss Lovegood, with soul magic?"

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	13. Chapter Twelve— The Tongue of Angels

Chapter Twelve— The Tongue of Angels

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_The elf left with a pop, and Severus began, "Are you at all familiar, Miss Lovegood, with soul magic?" _

He watched her shake her head, her heavy blond braid swaying slightly. "No, but daddy says that soul instinct and recognition are to be relied on just as much as any of our other five senses."

Severus never thought he'd _ever_ have cause to say this but, "You're father is a very wise man, Miss Lovegood." Just then, the urn appeared with a pop on the pie crust table between them. Severus watched her eyes drift towards it, examining it. He continued, "He Who Must Not Be Named has delved deeper into soul magic than any other wizard or witch before him." She had risen and made her way to the urn, picking it up with effort and turning it over. "He, in point of fact, has split his soul." She looked up at him, her eyes widening, astonishment clearly there for him to see. "Do put down the urn before you drop it, Miss Lovegood." Hastily, she bid to comply.

"As I was saying, he has split his soul into eight; eight pieces that make it possible for him to never die a mortal death."

She cocked her head to the side as if listening to something, "But a spiritual death, sir?"

"_Precisely_." By Merlin, she was quick. "This is a very special vessel, Miss Lovegood, for it contains the power to draw out the fragments of soul left remaining intact. However, using that most vaunted Ravenclaw intellect, I wonder, have you seen the problem?"

He watched as she examined the urn again, picking it up and hefting its weight. Putting it down, she drew her wand from behind her ear, and with a whispered 'nox', the lights in the room lowered until they were practically non-existent. Another murmured spell and the Room was awash in golden light from the urn as the strange writing lifted and appeared before them both. Severus' eyes opened in astonishment.

Four months. Four months he had been contemplating the bloody thing, and here she had all but solved it in as many minutes. "Enochian. It is written in the Enochian tongue." With a closing motion, she released the spell and brought the lights back up once again.

His eyes narrowed, just how had she— "Daddy did a piece years ago on the language of Angels using a cipher found from what was purportedly the Tower of Babel." Making a mental note to begin subscribing to _The Quibbler_ from here on in, Severus nodded for her to continue. "You do not know how the urn works. That is the problem sir?" He nodded once, shortly, and watched as she tilted her head and narrowed her eyes in thought. "I would need the article Professor. Perhaps even to journey to Babel myself to seek out the cipher. I do not think Daddy covered it completely."

Narrowing his own eyes in thought, Severus spied a desk that had appeared the moment she spoke of her _need_ with the unusual magazine on top opened to a certain page. He could see from here it was the article for which Luna spoke. Noticing the desk and what it held, he watched as Luna gave a small, enigmatic smile and patted the armchair on which she sat once more. "Is that all Professor?"

All—_all?!_ Her lack of reaction drove him crazy at times. Did she not _want_ or _need_ to know when the information was available right at this very moment?

With a flick of his wand, Severus accio'd the magazine over to him. Absently performing a dupleo spell so that there were two, he flung the other magazine at her and began to read. Immediately, he noticed that he could not understand a single word on the printed page as it was all in nonsensical gibberish. Looking up from his bent posture, he saw Luna looking over at him, a small irritation-inducing smile on her face.

Her smile grew wider as she took from her pocket the odd glasses he had seen her wearing months previously and slipped them on. With a wand tap, another pair had been produced, and she handed the odd-colored glasses to him. "Here, sir. They're spectre-specs. Daddy likes to use them to encode valuable information to be revealed only to the initiated. This article happens to be one of those that is protected."

With a grimace of utter loathing, Severus put the damned things on, and immediately felt twelve kinds of fool. However, the article's words leapt before him, rearranging themselves into syntactical sense. He looked up to find Miss Lovegood watching him, her smile as wide as it was brilliant; her glasses glowing in recognition of his own. With a growl, he gestured to her magazine, "_Read. Now_."

Sobering, she nodded and bent to comply.

After he had finished the article's contents and knew for certain that she had as well, Severus muttered 'nox' and the lights went out completely. He heard Luna mumble the strange revealing spell again and the golden writing appeared once more before them.

By the golden light, they read and ciphered: a pile of quills, ink, and parchment appearing before them. She studied it again, nodding, "Yes, I do believe this is the language that is inscribed on the object."

Severus studied the golden writing, recognizing some of the characters and beginning to piece together bits of words. "Yes, it would seem so." He agreed. "The cipher your father provided is incomplete, however."

She replied absently while writing, "Daddy couldn't stay to copy all of it. He was chased away by the Zigguratian Shamen. They're very protective of the area you know." Severus could imagine: the guardians of Gods Gate—a path straight to the Divine. Practically forgotten by wizards and witches and buried in the annals of muggle biblical history as fictional myth, the gateway formed a bridge between the Divine and Man. And according to Xenophilias Lovegood, it existed, and he had traveled there.

Ending the spell and bringing up the lights once more, Severus asked, "Do you know where it's located, Miss Lovegood?"

She nodded absently, already comparing her translation to his; it seems they had come to the same conclusion:

_**T_e _ay a_ea_ is f_e_ t_ug_ li_t _ve_ in l_ve. T_ _at_er t_e the_ _at _as bee_ t_ asu_er_, t_ _f _e must i_ca_t a_ call u_n t_e _ers m_st _ivi_e. T_e _ieces _f s_ul _ill fi_ t_ei_ _ay _illi_ly _ce t_ei_ vessels _ave bee_ _est_ye_. F_r _ui_ _ives _ise t_ _ecreati_.**_

"We'll leave tomorrow at first light." Severus got up from the chair and made for the door.

"But sir. Tomorrow's Christmas Eve."

He drew up short. So it was. Looking back at her, his eyebrows rose, "Can you think of anything more important you would like to do, Miss Lovegood, than dispel the evil plaguing our world?"

She immediately nodded, and his lips twitched slightly; he had set himself up for that. "I would like to go see my father and mother you see. It is tradition for me to visit my mother at her burial place each Christmas, and I haven't seen my father since start of term. I'm sure he's terribly worried."

Making his way back over to her, Severus looked at her, regret filled him, "I'm afraid that's not possible, Lu—Miss Lovegood." His tone was soft in difference to the hard truth he was having to relate, "You are, in point of fact, my prisoner here."

Her eyes grew wide, but she nodded slightly. "So Professor Carrow wasn't lying when he said he was supposed to kidnap me, was he sir?"

"No. And Luna, do not give that noxious waste the title of 'Professor'. I was able to convince the Dark Lord the best place for you is Hogwarts under my supervision; your father is to be punished for writing the truth, and you the apparatus chosen. You can have no contact whatsoever with him; nor can you reassure him of your continued safety. There is too much at stake." She nodded to show her understanding of the seriousness of her predicament, but she looked indelibly sad.

Severus balled his hands into fists, having to physically restrain himself from reaching out and caressing her cheek in comfort. "The sooner we solve the mystery of the urn and rid the world of the Dark Lord, the sooner you may return to your father. Do you sense the urgency now, Miss Lovegood?"

She nodded quickly, "I will be ready tomorrow morning." Severus nodded and turned to go and heard her soft voice just reach him as he left the door. "Goodnight, sir. And thank you."

Upon reaching his chambers, Severus closed his eyes and bowed his head in thought. He hadn't realize how starved he was for companionship, for human contact that was not balanced on a razor's edge of hate or sycophancy. One word, one smile in kindness in trust, and he was like a mewling puppy begging for more.

And he would be leaving Hogwarts journeying with Luna to a foreign land. Merlin help him! He began to pace: there was no help for it. He would simply have to be a right bastard. It was the role, after all, he was born to play.

The only problem was, his act was ineffectual on her; it always had been. She had always remained unaffected by his dramatics, his smokescreens—even as a student under his tutelage.

Well then, he'd just have to put more of an effort into it.

So thinking, Severus began to plan, coming up short when he realized he had absolutely no idea where they were headed. With a shake of his head, he resumed pacing once more. Once they figured out how to manipulate the urn, events would unfold quickly. He did not believe that the Dark Lord could feel the destruction of the shards of his soul, and so, it stood to reason that he would not be able to feel their removal and re-containment. The only shard left remaining would be the one that dwelt within his living vessel.

Easy enough to dispatch once he regained mortality.

Severus snorted. Yes, and the Chudley Cannons would finish first for the Quidditch World Cup next year. Without Dumbledore, they had a bat's chance in hell of killing the bastard—the Dark Lord could still live an unnaturally long life and do much damage to their world in the process.

It was in this thinking, that Severus stopped short.

Was that his path to change? He had been sent back for a specific purpose and a specific purpose only. He was not to destroy the Dark Lord but to save the pieces of his soul.

But knowing his nature, he knew he could not leave it as is. The Dark Lord was a monster, mortal or immortal, and must be stopped. He resumed his measured pacing. No, he couldn't leave them to it as it were. And so, Severus began to plan. Things would be a hell of a lot easier if he knew where the bits of the Dark Lord's soul resided. But then again, the urn could call the shards of soul to it all at once. And wouldn't it be a boon if the Dark Lord was killed when that happened?

His mind spun with possibilities.

Finally, Severus reached the conclusion that, as of yet, he didn't have enough data to formulate which way to go in his plan of action. Looking at the clock, he realized he had little more than three hours before he would see Luna again, and heading for the headmaster's chambers, Severus quickly undressed and lay down, forcing his body to rest.

His mind still busy, his body exhausted.

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	14. Chapter Thirteen— Upon Reflection

Chapter Thirteen— Upon Reflection

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If there was one thing Luna Lovegood knew for a certainty, it was that there were more things in heaven and Earth than could be dreamt or imagined. Take for example Professor Snape. Never would she have imagined him concerning himself with her welfare. It wasn't that she thought him mean—even though he could be, or particularly cruel—though he could be that as well.

To her, he had just always seemed as being buttoned up; buttoned up as tight as a person could be. He was so restricted, so inhibited and closed off. And yet, he had saved her, healed her, cared for her, _and_ trusted her with more than a few of his secrets. And if there was one thing Luna had learned from her covert observation of him all these years, it was that Professor Severus Snape trusted no one.

And so, she was left to wonder why he chose to confide in _her; t_he very buttoned-up, inaccessible professor? Her mind tumbled this question about, looking for answers and possible connections. They had a bond; there could be no doubt of that. The phrase light calling to dark could sum up how they were together. Complete opposites in almost every way, they were seemingly incompatible. And yet, somehow, she instinctively knew they were inseparable. Light to dark. Order to chaos. He was her mate—her match.

He was her mirror twin, quite opposite in every respect.

She had made it a habit to observe his comings and goings, even when he was given the position of Headmaster. It had been apparent all of last year when Professor Dumbledore was ailing that Professor Snape had been under a great deal of stress that only increased as the year wore on. She had noted his comings and goings to and from the castle grounds, and he was never more careworn and haggard than when he came back from his meetings with Voldything.

When he had killed the Headmaster, Luna had tried to side with public opinion. She had truly tried. But she just couldn't reconcile the taciturn and buttoned-up professor as being a cold-blooded murderer and one of Voldything's henchmen.

Over the months of meeting his stare every morning at breakfast, Luna had weighed her feelings for him against what she knew was truth and what she knew was slander. Whenever she met his stare, she always received a subtle pulsing from her anahata, and it was this—this instinctual response—that she trusted above all others.

She felt so strongly that he was innocent of killing the headmaster even though there was unassailable proof that he was not; her soul knew instinctively there was more to it.

In his explanation, he had told her that Professor Dumbledore had asked it of him. And in Luna's observation, this was the only explanation that could make sense. And in light of recent events, she was ever so glad she had withheld her judgment; for in saving her from that evil man and his sister, he had exposed himself for what he truly was—a dark horse.

Banishing the painting of the fiery, Luna took up her paints and instead began to draw the outline of a dark horse next to the cherry-blossomed tree. He had eyes the color of onyx and a lean, muscular build. Moments later, she heard a pop behind her, and looking over, saw Dobby bringing sheets to a bed that appeared in the corner. "Hogwarts master has assigned me to young miss. And master says Dobby is to care for young miss and make sure she sleeps. And young miss needs sleep in order for Dobby to do his duty as master commands." The elf looked at her worriedly, his ears drooping slightly.

Luna put down her paints and made her way over to the bed, giving the little elf a consoling pat on his bony shoulder. "Of course, sir. I would be happy to do as Professor Snape requests." The elf blinked, and then gave her a slight smile, his ears coming up fully.

"Young miss has addressed Dobby as 'sir'. Young miss give Dobby honor." The elf bowed, his knitted hat almost scraping the floor.

Still wearing her shoes, Luna got into the militantly-made bed very gingerly, anxious not to muss the little elf's handiwork too much.

"Would it be better if young miss removed her shoes? Dobby will gladly help young miss if young miss needs Dobby 's help to do so." The elf raised his fingers to snap, but Luna stopped him with a smile.

"That's very kind of you sir, but no thank you. I sleepwalk, you see? And when one sleepwalks, it is always best for one to be prepared for the journey."

The little elf looked at her with a glaze of confusion apparent in his eyes, and this was a look with which Luna was well acquainted. It meant being relegated as an eccentric bordering on loony. But then the small creature shrugged and gave a crooked smile, and with a snap of his fingers, the lights went out as he disappeared.

Minutes passed, and her mind refused to settle. Instead she remained awake thinking about her professor.

His hands—long-fingered and graceful. Hands that had touched her face, arms, and hips taking away the pain that the mean-spirited man had caused. Hands that had left behind a tingling trail of comfort, of warmth in its place. He really did have beautiful hands. She had always thought so whenever she watched him demonstrate a potion: his were an artist's hands filled with innate grace. Luna decided that she would paint her dark horse with elegant wings spanned outwards, waiting to encompass— there, her fertile imagination drew blank.

With a sigh, she surrendered the image to the depths of her ocean-deep and gave in to the luring comfort of dreams.

Perhaps her sleeping self could conjure what her mind could not.

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**oOo**

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She awoke sometime later to the worried exclamations of the house elf as he had come to wake her. "Hogwarts Master says young miss is not to terry in bed. But young miss is still asleep. Young miss must get up so that Dobby can do his duty by Hogwarts Master." Luna watched as the elf wrung his ears, looking at her worriedly.

Sitting up, she spoke softly so as not to frighten the small, fretting being before her, "Do not worry, sir. I'm up and ready for breakfast. I just need to change my clothes." So saying, Luna got up from her bed, absently noticing she had sleep-walked during the night. And going behind the changing screen, she changed into a pair of cerulean tights and a bright orange turtle-necked jumper that reached to her knees. She topped the ensemble with a pair of Flouvogs in brilliant mauve that came up mid-calve. In coming out, she saw that Professor Snape had arrived and was occupied in study of her mural. It seemed she had finished it during the night.

A unicorn lay peacefully in repose, nestled in the wings of the dark horse.

Drawing up beside him, she studied the painting as well. A unicorn; it was somehow very fitting. "Will you share in my breakfast, sir?"

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Severus looked down and did a double-take.

Was that really what his mate insisted on wearing? Great Merlin, he would have to disillusion her from the onset in that eye-watering getup.

Leading the way to the sideboard where her breakfast rested, he stated gruffly, "It is best you tell me where we are going. Is it possible to arrive there via apparition?" Severus summoned Dobby and asked for his usual coffee, watching in approval as Luna began to make herself a plate. While performing some kind of renewing charm on her necklace of butter beer caps, she absently handed him some of her raspberry jammed toast, and unthinking, he ate it as he read the slanderous lies espoused by the morning's _Prophet_. Blinking, Severus realized he was indeed hungry for once, and he fixed himself a plate as well.

Peace. Comfort. Domesticity. Feelings that were definitely missing from the life of Severus Tobias Snape. Feelings that he was stealing by changing the course of events that were supposed to have unfolded as they had previously. And yet, once more Severus made a study of her muralled painting. He was compelled to drink in the action of the dark horse with eyes so very familiar. There was such a caring, protective mein about the creature; a creature rendered so very life-like and yet completely made of whimsy.

After drinking some of her gurdyroot concoction, Luna broke the silence, "How familiar are you professor with the mountains of Anatolia?"

"I'm not, Miss Lovegood." he replied distractedly. Severus studied his mate covertly. The elf had informed him that she had sleep-walked during the night, painting straight on until morning where she had returned to bed once more. He had said she preferred to wear shoes to bed, and waxed lyrical about that particular proclivity for some time before Severus had put a stop to it. The irony was indeed keen however; it did seem the only time the chit deigned to wear footwear at all was when it was completely inappropriate for her to do so.

Typical.

As he watched, the unicorn foal sheltered under the wings of the dark horse opened its eyes and stared straight at him. His stomach did a flip. Its eyes were the color of Luna's. The unicorn was her. And he was the dark horse.

The proof was in the eyes.

This was a painting done from her soul. It was a message, of that he was certain. A message that she knew him—recognized him perhaps? Remembered him.

"The Mountains house the Tower of Babel. It has been hidden all these years due to celestial magic that muggles can't feel and wizards cannot access."

Severus blinked, dispelling his hopeful thoughts as he focused once more on the conversation at hand. "Indeed. And how is it you propose we get there?"

He watched as she tilted her head in thought, "I need a map of the area." Immediately one appeared before her provided by the Room. Taking her wand from behind her ear, Severus watched as she drew the topographical outline of a giant tower atop one of the peaks. "It would be the tallest man-made structure in the world if it were visible sir. Daddy said that the celestials have a devil of a time trying to keep it hidden what with all the new inventions the muggles have created. How far can you apparate us?"

Studying the map, Severus figured he could get them there in three apparitions without becoming too fatigued. "Do you know where it is that we are going?" He watched as she gestured to a miniature minaret atop the highest peak of the mountain.

"There. That is where the cipher is kept; it's just getting there that is going to be the trouble. You see, the Zigguratian Shamen are not Earthly; their magic is not like our own, and therefore not bound by the rules and strictures that we, as human magical beings are subjected to."

Severus felt his own ignorance keenly. "Is there anything I can read on this subject, Miss Lovegood?"

She shook her head, "No sir. Everything I know, I know from my father's first-hand experience."

Great. Severus was forced to rely on the dubious accountings of Xenophilius Lovegood; the thought made him more than slightly alarmed. "Alright, so how can we prepare ourselves?" Her eyes lost focus as she thought.

"Well, they will detect impure motivation, so both of our hearts have to be in the right place. You need to be looking for the cipher for a good reason, sir. Otherwise, the Shamen will know, and they will expel us. That is why Daddy was chased away. He had no _need_ for it, sir. "

Severus couldn't resist asking, curious as to what his mate would say. "And what constitutes a pure motivation, Miss Lovegood?"

She took a moment to gather her thoughts and if Severus didn't know better, he would think she was woolgathering. "Well, I guess it would depend on what you plan on doing with the cipher, sir. What is it you are planning on doing with the urn once the pieces of Voldything's soul have been collected?"

Answering a question with a question, how very like your Ravenclaw contemporaries you are, Miss Lovegood. To answer _your_ question, I will say this: heaven only knows." There. Let her make of his response what she would. When it became apparent, she had no more to offer on the subject, Severus asked, "Are you ready to go? Though it is still quite early yet, we must leave before any of the others in the castle awaken." He watched as she rose, and making her way to her trunk, donned her traveling cloak. It was a patched monstrosity every bit as bright and garish as the rest of her outfit. He felt suddenly quite homesick for their after.

Smiling slightly, she murmured from the folds, "I'm ready, sir." Tapping her once on the head with his wand, Severus disillusioned them both and then with muffled footsteps, led the way to the stairs and then the grounds where they could apparate.

Drawing her close to him, Severus thought of their first destination, and with a small crack, they were off.

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_**A/N:**_ I cannot take credit for the appellation of 'Voldything' but for the life of me, I cannot remember which fic I lifted it from. If you know, please let me know so I can credit the author. As an aside, I would love to hear what you guys think of my little tale if you have a moment to spare?

Thank you,

_**DGM**_


	15. Chapter Fourteen— All You Need is a

Chapter Fourteen— All You Need is a Drummer

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It seemed normal, natural perhaps, that she should be held like this in her professor's arms.

All too soon, they had appeared with a crack in a small field in the middle of Calais, France. Luna had always heard of side-along apparition as being an unpleasant experience, but she didn't think so. It was jarring to be sure to be jerked about in such a fashion but no more so than traveling by floo or by portkey. "Are you quite alright, Miss Lovegood? Do you feel ill? Miss Lovegood?" She looked up; her professor was looking down at her, a solicitous expression on his face, and his hand squeezed hers where he held it. Luna realized she had been holding his hand to her. But again, that feeling of comfort, of home in his proximity spread throughout her, and she suddenly didn't want to let go—not ever.

Slowly, she relinquished her hold and stepped back from him.

"Yes, sir. Oh, look! Diaphanous Dilspurt. It's very rare and can be used as potion's ingredient you know?" Luna wandered over to the bright yellow plant and began picking the flowers. Severus followed, watching as she picked a nosegay of the worthless things.

"Miss Lovegood, those are ranunculus repens also known as creeping buttercup; a common weed useless in potions' making." She looked up at him, a wreath of the damned flowers already being weaved throughout her hair; her pale blond eyebrows arched.

"Are you quite certain, sir?"

Severus tsk'd, and shook his head at her foolishness. "_Quite_." He sat on the ground beside her and watched her weave the nosegay into a small cornucopia shape using twigs and the yellow weeds.

After a few minutes, when he was sure his magic could sustain them both another turn, he asked, "When you have quite finished?"

With a final intricate knot, the cornucopia was complete. Gathering the flowers to her on her wreathed head, Luna stepped close, and Severus drew her up to him. With an arm around her front. They disapparated with a small crack from Calais to reappear on the outskirts of the Hague.

Immediately, Luna stepped away from him and began gathering seashells. And Severus stood back and watched this type of foolishness that was so inherent in her personality and not his own. On he looked fascinated as she gathered as many perfect seashells as she could find and wove them into braided strands of color that made a popping, clacking sounds when the wind would blow. She wove these through the cornucopia until it rattled in synchronic time with every movement she made.

With a nod, she stated, "I am quite pleased with it, sir. Are you ready?"

Severus looked up. How long had he spent staring? Gaining his feet abruptly, he didn't wait for her to step into his arms, but grabbing her, pulling her close, and with a much louder crack, they were gone.

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**oOo**

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Luna blinked. They had arrived on the mountainside of the north Anatolian Mountains. And right above them stood the Tower of Babel.

She gulped, "Can you feel it, sir?"

Severus could indeed. It was an odd, oppressive sensation that made him feel judged. He drew Luna even closer to him, looking down to see that she had put on the ridiculous spectre-specs and was examining the area minutely. Severus, too, began to scan the area looking for any danger that could pose harmful to Luna or himself. "Come on sir. The gateway's over there. Oh, and I guess now would be a good time to tell you that you cannot use any magic."

Severus stopped short, causing her to bump into him. "Just what do you mean, Miss Lovegood?" He turned her around to face him and removed the ridiculous glasses from her head.

She blinked up at him, her eyes adjusting to the light, "Exactly as I said sir. Our magic is no good here. Once we journey through the gates—," she pointed to an ordinary-looking rock outcropping before them, "our magic will be rendered inert. We will be as ordinary as muggles to the Shamen." Severus fingered his wand, not liking this new development in the slightest.

"And you didn't think this information was pertinent enough to inform me _before_ we left? Merlin's beard!" Severus flung her away from him, and began picking up small rocks to transfigure into daggers and throwing stars. "What else have you not disclosed to me?" he growled as a small hand gripped his wrist to stop him making any more.

He looked up to find her shaking her head, "You cannot take any magical items with you when we cross the barrier, professor. None but ourselves. Well, ourselves and my cornucopia." She gave a small, enigmatic smile, and taking her wand, deliberately placed it on the small outcropping before the 'gates'. Quite reluctantly and feeling very much disgusted, Severus did the same, surrendering his ebony wand beside her own. He watched as she removed the radish-like earrings she was wearing as well as the necklace of butterbeer caps. She placed the ridiculous glasses once more on her nose, and they started forward.

At the last moment, those too were tossed in the pile.

They were walking into Merlin knew what with no protection at all.

The thought was not a foreign one for Severus, but having someone else to keep safe as he went was, and it was with a tug, that he grabbed Miss Lovegood's hand and firmly placed it inside his own before she could wander off. She gave him a small, daffy smile and began walking up the carved stone path slightly ahead of him.

"I might as well tell you now, professor, that time holds no meaning in this place. It is the holiest of holies, you see; a place before magic at the creation of time itself." Severus watched as she dropped a buttercup along the path. It was immediately absorbed into the well-worn stone. The feeling of judgment, a terrible omniscience, lessened marginally.

The cornucopia she held rattled with their steps. "Tell me exactly what the meaning of the cornucopia is?" His tone held barely restrained fury, but his hold on her hand gentled the slightest bit.

She smiled up at him and rattled the shells. "Insurance."

Severus growled, and his hold on her hand tightened. "_Explain now, Miss Lovegood_." He ground out through clenched teeth. His mate was quite becoming quite an exasperation.

On she walked, seemingly oblivious to his pique, but quietly, she began to speak, "You have already verified for us that the creeping buttercup is non-magical."

Severus blinked realizing how neatly he had been played. _Diaphonous Dilspurt indeed._ "Yes." he growled.

She nodded, "The five elements: earth, air, fire, water, and spirit are represented between the three of us. Fire and spirit dwell within." She paused in her meandering to reach up and touch his head at the point between his brows and then she touched his solar plexis. "I have brought earth, water, and air with us." She shook the cornucopia again, and it rattled in the quiet stillness of the place. "The flowers are of the earth; the shells of the water. The sounds they make travel on the wind. The Zigguratian Shamen will respect the offerings we give them.

"Remember when I told you that you have to come here with pure intention? Well, that's just one aspect of it. Another is a small offering of each element that will go a long way towards appeasing the beings that dwell here and their judgment. Remember. Always remember sir. We are but playthings to these beings: a curiosity easily quashed." She gave him a level look, and Severus was momentarily taken aback; her eyes were more serious than he had ever seen. Severus blinked and nodded hesitantly; never had he felt more like an ant under a magnifying glass than now.

He took refuge in his anger, "And again, you couldn't have notified me of any of this before now?" His hand tugged her along as they began walking once more, taking out his frustration in his rapid stride.

Fond exasperation crept into her tone as she replied, "Would it have mattered, sir? What was your first instinct when I told you that you couldn't use magic?"

She trotted beside him, tugging on his hand, "You cannot begin to challenge these beings, sir. That way lies folly. You can only entertain and walk but softly in their domain."

Silence reigned once more between them as they began climbing a steeper incline. Severus felt the oppressing feeling of omniscience weigh once more upon them. Dropping the occasional weed, Luna began to shake the cornucopia in time to their footfalls—the clatter of the thing providing a cadence to their journey.

The path they trod upon was ancient; the rocks around them covered in a fine layer of dust. The sun shown upon them, but oddly, Severus couldn't tell if it was morning, noon, or evenin' time. His internal chronometer was definitely feeling the effects of the place. They could have been walking for seconds, hours, years.

He stopped, realizing he was humming just under his breath causing Luna to draw up short beside him.

She blinked up at him, "Why did you stop, sir? You have a lovely voice."

"Miss Lovegood, I do not sing. _Ever_." Severus snapped. "And especially never before an audience."

Gracing him another daffy smile, she let go of his hand and began to walk ahead of him, rattling the cornucopia in time with her footfalls. Severus picked up his pace in order not to lose her.

He ordered, "Miss Lovegood—Luna—you go too far, too fast. Slow down!"

She danced back over to him, literally twirled and spun, smiling idiotically. "Can you not feel it, the joy of it, sir?" Her eyes were alight with playful happiness. Severus felt the oppressive sensation gather further on them. She danced away from him and laughed as she spun coming perilously close to edge of a cliff. "Luna!" Severus' voice echoed sharply around the mountainside. But even as he watched, she danced and spun further and faster onwards; the cornucopia keeping time to her internal song.

Oh, his galloping fool!

She was insensate to his summons—to him or her surroundings. And Severus began running towards her, but it seemed the further he ran, the further along she danced away from him. Still he panted to catch up with her, developing a stitch in his side for his pains.

And his heart stopped as he watched her pitch forward straight off the cliff. He was running full out, and he knew he would not get there in time.

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But time it seemed had stopped.

As had the laws of gravity apparently for even as he watched, she twirled and danced upon the wind, rising higher and higher, climbing thin air before him. And gasping, Severus fell to his knees as he watched his beloved twirl and dance like some ethereal wind sprite ascending the heavens.

_Sing_, several voices speaking as one commanded. _We are waiting_.

Severus came back to himself with a start.

Looking around, he saw nothing that could have spoken with him, only Luna dancing and climbing higher on the wind. _The other pleases and entertain s us very much, but you try our limited patience. We demand an offering of spirit. You must sing or you will die._

Severus gulped as he felt a crushing weight begin to close around him. His vision darkened, going black. The weight on his chest was approaching critical, his chest collapsing as his vision began to darken.

Spirit.

They required an offering of spirit. And all he had to do was sing.

Drawing his last breath, Severus began to sing.

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	16. Chapter Fifteen— Small Comfort

Chapter Fifteen— Small Comfort

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It was a welsh lullaby his mother had sung to him, and in deep baritone, Severus sang about celestials keeping watch through the night. The crushing, weighted judgment he was feeling lessened incrementally as he did so, and Severus felt the relief he experienced slowly release itself into the song, lending it wings and producing even more.

It did indeed seem that the more of himself he gave to the song, the lighter he felt, and it was with a small amount of joy that he sang it to its completion, feeling light-hearted and lifted somehow.

Looking around, he was startled to see he had travelled to almost the highest point of the tower. Vertigo gripped him as he looked around. Blue sky—the bluest he'd ever seen. They were high, higher than the clouds, and the air was thin, so incredibly thin, and cool. Rising from his kneeling position, Severus began to walk once more towards what he hoped was the minaret that held the cipher, praying that Luna had already arrived.

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Arrive she had.

Quite before him, it seemed, for she had already much progress on rubbing and etching of the runes. Severus bent to help but, once more, felt that weighty-oppressive feeling take hold. The Voice of many Voices chorused: A_n offering of fire is necessary, mortal. State your intentions and be careful to do so clearly._

The intense feeling of weight and crushing pressure ratcheted up a notch. Severus gasped and clutched at the phantom _hands_ at his throat and chest.

Occluding all panicked emotion, Severus thought carefully his next words. "I seek—I seek to make whole again what was once torn apart. …I seek to contain and nullify an evil that should not be. …I seek to bring peace and light to what is even now in war and darkness."

_You seek revenge _the Voices screamed as the weight began crushing him.

"NO!— I admit that was my intention before, but I have learned since… I _have_ learned!" The weight on his chest paused, and Severus felt time all but stop as his words were weighed and measured. They could have held him thusly for eternity, and he would never have known.

_We find you speak the truth mortal man of many lives. Your soul's mate is the only one permitted to touch the stone. She is blameless—pure. You will watch over and sing to her for soon she shall tire and need your strength. Guard and guide her, and you both shall sleep. _

_Upon awakening, you will be once more at the gates. _

_Never come again._

Severus nodded once in instant acquiescence, the oppressive weight instantly lifted, and gingerly, he made his way to Luna's side.

He could feel the foreign magic of the stone rolling off it in waves making him feel disoriented and queasy. It was covered in the strange symbols of the Enochian tongue, and if the stone was having such an effect on him, there was no telling how, in such close proximity, the stone was affecting her. Already, he could see a fine trembling beginning in her hand and arm as she wielded the bit of coal she was rubbing to transfer the carvings on the stone to that of parchment. Her unblinking stare uncharacteristically focused and methodical in what she had to do.

Without another thought, Severus sat closely behind her and moved so that her back rested against his chest. Splaying his legs on either side of hers, he supported her smaller frame with his own. He supported her arm as she etched, and the trembling in the small muscles lessened considerably in his hold.

After a time of observing her and holding her thusly while she worked, Severus realized she must be in some sort of trance, absorbed as she was in her task. And so, completely unselfconscious, he began to hum softly in her ear, lyric phrases, nonsense mostly, enchanting images and observations he knew she would appreciate if only she could have heard them. The play of the light as it hit the semi-pink, and slightly reflective stone, a mythical creature he once heard Hagrid expound as really existing, his observations regarding this year's crop of newest students at Hogwarts.

When little beads of perspiration would appear on her forehead and nape, he would wipe them away with the sleeve of his robe; all the while keeping a running dialogue of nonsensical statements that would appeal to her.

Almost half-way through, her energy began to flag as her muscles started to seize and tense. Severus removed his hands from her underarm and from around her stomach, and began unobtrusively massaging the small muscles of her arms, neck, and back, kneading the tender flesh gently until they relaxed once again.

On she etched and rubbed, and still he talked and massaged, telling her of potions that would be useful in the field of cryptozoology, should she choose to pursue it. "The Lacewing Nocturne potion would prove extremely useful, Luna, as it knocks out anything mammalian, non-human that ingests it without posing lasting harm." He paused in thought but kept massaging her tender muscles. "The Langhart non odorem elixir would be as well." He spoke softly in her ear. "This potion blocks the scent of the one who ingests it, thereby making one indistinguishable to one's sensory surroundings. It would be especially useful for those stubborn magical creatures that fear a human presence."

Her etching arm began to tire again, and even as he watched, it began to tremble and shake once more. Severus again placed his arm under hers for support. And examining her, he found that her face had taken on a grayish caste. He wished he could imbue her with some of his energy, his healing magic!

But he was rendered all but useless here, watching as she tortured herself to complete the cipher. If she tired, if she fell asleep before it was completed, then they would not be able to enact the urn. He felt helpless, and even as he observed, her eyes began to droop and her head to nod. "No, Miss Lovegood! _I did not give you permission to sleep_!" He spoke sharply, automatically taking on the role of acerbic potion's professor, gratified to see her eyes snap open and become once more focused on her task. "You have not finished your work Luna, and you may not sleep until you have." Severus' free hand came around her once again, and he began to gently shake her. She was leaning heavily into him now, panting slightly, her sweat-dampened head having fallen wearily against his chest some time ago.

His back, legs, and shoulders were screaming from holding her in this position so long.

How many hours had they been there? Surely, it was almost over.

Looking down, he saw there were only a few more lines of script remaining. Her head once more began to nod. "Luna!" He shouted into her ear, and her head came up slightly. "A few more. Only a few more, my heart." he chanted. And Severus began giving her percussive taps along her shoulders and back in rhythm with her etching. Three taps—begin a rune. Two taps—halfway through. One tap—the etching was complete. Three, two, one: an endless marching cadence. On and on this went until, finally, they were on the last line.

And then with a final tap, she was done, and her hand stilled.

And immediately, Severus drew her away from the stone pulsing with foreign magical energy. And after carefully tucking away the last of the precious papers she had labored so painstakingly to produce, he engulfed her, shielded her with his body, his cloak, as he turned them both to nestle against the furthest wall away from the cipher.

His back a barrier to the stone.

She lay in his arms, conscious but insensate. And taking each hand, Severus began massaging the cramped and seized limbs until they finally relaxed in his hold. He tucked them against him, keeping them warm with his body heat as he wrapped his other arm under her head to shield it from the cold stone floor. And he held her to him, drawing the folds of his cloak tighter around them both until they were quite buried in the dark cocoon he had created. "You finished it Luna." he whispered. "Now, now you may sleep."

He felt her sigh against him as she burrowed even further into his neck, and he drew her closer, closing his eyes and lifting a prayer in entreaty that she received a healing, blessed rest.

_Sing for her_ the Voice of Voices commanded.

This time, Severus did not hesitate. He quietly sang his mother's lullaby to her, crooning softly as he felt her body begin to relax against him. And he felt the warmth of her breath touch his neck, and he closed his eyes in thanks for the both of them having made it through yet another trial.

Inhaling her familiar cherry-blossomed scent now laced with the tart note of creeping buttercup, Severus drew her even closer to him and made to sleep.

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**oOo**

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Luna had awakened sometime later to the feeling of arms surrounding her, keeping her warm. Burrowing closer, she inhaled the familiar aroma of spice and the less familiar, but no less welcome, scent of the man holding her. And looking up, she saw that he was still asleep. And so, Luna took this time to observe him; noting that his face was slightly less careworn and worried in repose. He did nto look innocent, did her professor. No. He looked guilty of all manner of deeds. And the guilt weighed heavily on him as evidenced by the worry lines etched on his face and brow. Feeling like it was the most natural act in the world, Luna reached up and caressed her professor's cheek gently.

His eyes instantly snapped opened, body awake and mind immediately alert. He studied her unblinking as she continued to caress his cheek. And for a time, a moment, Luna lost herself in his onyx stare, how dark and incredibly deep were those inky pools of black. He blinked and the moment was lost. "Remove your hand at once, Miss Lovegood." The command was issued in silky tones of morning gruff, and blinking, Luna came back to herself. Giving his face a final caress, she sat up, dislodging his arms and his cloak from around her in the process.

She gained her feet quickly and looked around.

They were back before the gates once more; their various magical items right where they had left them. Picking up her wand, Luna cast a tempus spell, and saw it had only been eight hours since they had parted Hogwarts which meant it was still Christmas Eve. She donned the necklace of butterbeer caps and her derigible plum earrings, placing the spectrespecs once more in her cloak pocket.

Her stomach growled mournfully.

"Come." Her professor reached over her and grabbed his own wand, settling his creased cloak about his shoulders, and with a flick, his disheveled clothing was smooth and crisp once more. Another flick, and Luna's clothes too were righted and crisp. He drew her close, placing his arms stiffly around her, trying to impose a distance between them it seemed, but content, Luna relaxed into his embrace as she felt the whip crack of his magic flow over them both.

Blinking into the hazy, winter sunlight, Luna saw they were in the Hague once more, surrounded by the susurrations of the sea. When he would have stepped away from her, Luna placed her hands on his, anchoring them to her. Laying her head back against his chest, she looked up at him and smiled contentedly, meeting his disapproving stare. She knew he would probably be embarrassed. He had told her things, whispered and sung her things in confidence that she did not think he would have otherwise done had he known she was listening and hearing every word he said.

She remembered it all; his tender care of her when her muscles would cramp and seize, the stories he related that made her smile and encouraged her when she didn't think she would ever be able to complete the cipher.

And then, there was his whispered endearment. _My heart._ He had called her his heart. From what she knew of her professor, he did not use such endearments lightly. If he called her his heart, then his heart she was and would be.. The thought was a heady and revealing one. To be this man's—this very powerful and courageous man's heart! She could think of no place more fitting, more honorable, than being nestled inside him, providing life's blood to his body, nourishing his soul. Just how long had he felt that way towards her? And the fact that she never even had a clue…

With a whispered _legilimens_, her professor was crashing into her mind, testing her shields, probing for her most recent musings; delicate tendrils of thought being searched for and sought. He would find nothing. However, Luna nudged her want for food up until it rested just below the surface of her mental ocean.

Plunging back into the watery winter sunlight, she saw him nod once sharply, and with a small crack, they were gone once more.

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Upon arriving in Calais, Severus immediately disentangled himself from her and began walking. There was a magical community just over the crest of the hill they were on. Looking behind him, he saw Luna behind him taking three strides for his every one.

He slowed his pace and looked at her in concern, a thought just occurring to him, "How do you feel, Miss Lovegood?"

"I very much like it when you call me Luna, professor." She picked her way over to him. "I feel much better. The song you sang me was imbued with Shamanistic healing magic."

Severus looked taken aback for a moment and then his eyes narrowed, "Just how much do you remember, Miss Lovegood?"

"Luna, professor. And I remember everything. Tell me more about the Langhart non odorem elixir, sir. It sounded very interesting! How exactly does one brew it?" Severus closed his eyes, his resolve to keep her at arms' length had melted away during the course of their ordeal. What had he said, what had he done?!

Dear Merlin! He had held her, massaged her. Hummed and sang to her! And although she was his soul's mate, she was his student. _His student first and foremost!_

Turning his back on her, he increased his stride a punishing pace once more until she had to trot to keep up with him or risk losing him altogether.

He made his way to a little seaside café selling ham and cheese rolls and purchased two of them, a coffee for himself, and a juice for her. Turning, he scanned the shop but quickly realized she wasn't there. His heart beat faster as he exited the shop and couldn't find her gaily-colored figure anywhere in sight. Striding down the street, robes in full billow, he scanned the crowded area; the shops filled with last-minute gift buyers and patrons scrambling for the holiday to come.

And Luna was nowhere to be found.

In desperation, Severus began retracing his steps, going up to the rock-strewn berm, dumbfounded and furious when he saw her seated on one of the smooth seaside rocks. She had her eyes closed as if in prayer.

Stalking over to where she sat, his temper snapped. "Do you willfully seek to make yourself a nuisance, Miss Lovegood?" Her eyes opened dazedly, and it seemed to take her a small infinity to finally focus upon him. "When we are walking together, I expect you to follow. Anything could have happened to you! Need I remind you of our present circumstances?"

Scowling, Severus stalked and sat across from her awaiting her response. His bluster hadn't fazed her one bit, if anything, she looked even more carefree and relaxed. "I am sorry to have worried you, professor, but I didn't see the purpose of following you into a town where I could have been recognized. The fewer people that see us together the better, don't you think, sir?" She plucked her breakfast roll from his hand and bit into it daintily.

Grinding his teeth together, Severus shoved the juice towards her as well before he threw it. "That was a risk I was willing to take you foolish girl."

"Your coffee's getting cold."

"DAMN MY COFFEE, AND DAMN YOUR IMPERTURBABLE NATURE! Anything could have happened, Luna. _Anything_! And without me there with you, you could have been taken, raped, tortured, or murdered. In fact, had I not been there that godforsaken night, that is exactly what would have happened! And trust me when I say I know _exactly_ what happens to little girls caught unawares. And sitting alone on this godforsaken rock, with your eyes closed and your mind open is not the behavior of a careful and circumspect young woman taking seriously the danger in which she finds herself!"

He was breathing heavily by the end of his tirade, towering over her; his coffee and roll having long since tumbled to the sand somewhere in the midst of his yelling. Severus watched as in slow motion as she stood and placed her arms around him, holding him tightly to her smaller frame. Merlin! She only came to the middle of his chest. Her ethereal voice carried to him on the wind, "I'm sorry I worried you, sir. I will try not to let it happen again." Severus closed his eyes and steeled himself against her warmth and softness.

But he couldn't. Too little affection and too little care had been granted the vessel of Severus Tobias Snape. And these past few months had been the worst. Not a soul. Not a one had offered him any measure of comfort, of compassion, of kindness. His only solace had been his duty.

And his ever-running refrain that she was too young, he too old. He her professor, she his student. She was not to know of _him_—of _them_—in this life! All of it an ever-resounding chorus inside his mind, but his vessel, _his soul_, screamed for him to draw comfort from her, from the gentle warmth she offered.

And hesitantly, he placed his arms around her, drawing her even closer to him.

He heard her quiet sigh, and he closed his eyes. "You worry me, Luna. Please try to be more circumspect. I could not bare it—" He quickly cut off that sentence before he said something irretrievable. He felt her hand touch his cheek.

Looking down, he gulped at the recognition he finally saw in her eyes.

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_**A/N:**_ If you can spare a moment, please drop me a line to tell me what you think.

Thank you!

_**DGM**_


	17. Chapter Sixteen— When Nargles Attack

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The authoress would like to thank each and every one of you who have reviewed, read, &/or continuing to read this story. Your support is very much appreciated.

_**DGM**_

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Chapter Sixteen— When Nargles Attack

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After disillusioning her, they arrived back at Hogwarts just before dinner, and Severus once more led her to the Room of Requirement. Upon entering the Room, however, Severus noticed something distinct had changed. "Miss Lovegood, did you—?"

His mate looked around, smiling brilliantly at what she saw. "No sir." Her voice held amazement. Just then two little elf feet appeared underneath a massive pine placed floor center, every bit as large as the ones Hagrid would carry into the castle.

"Oh! Master and young miss! Dobby has been quite busy." The elf tugged on his ears anxiously searching for approval.

"So we can see" Severus replied dryly, repulsed at the saccharine sentimental display before him. Luna stepped further into the Room, taking obvious delight in the elf's handiwork.

Boughs of holly and ivy hung from each corner of the room. Enchanted icicles hung above their heads twinkling rainbow colors in the soft firelight while piles of enchanted snow drifted in the corners, swirling softly. The light from several dozen charmed candles flickered in the giant conifer which had yet to be decorated. "Now that Master and young miss have returned, Dobby will go and prepare your dinner."

With a pop, the elf was gone, and Severus was looking into Luna's eyes—eyes filled with childish wonder at the elf's antics. He gulped back the emotion filling him and made his way into the Room going to his now customary chair by the fire. A snifter of Ogden's best appeared by his side, and Severus gave an appreciative swirl of the golden contents before sipping contentedly.

They had not encountered a soul on their return journey, and Severus was quite looking forward to an evening unmolested spent in the company of his mate. Looking over, he covertly watched as Luna removed her cloak of many colors and began to decorate the tree, placing each jeweled bauble and shiny ornament _just so_ that it refracted the best light. He smiled slightly at the idyllic image and felt a weight settle off his shoulders and fall away.

Peace. Tranquility. Comfort.

That was what he was feeling here in her presence.

Home. The greatest gift she could possibly give him. He looked on, sipping his whiskey as he remembered. Three lives ago, they had celebrated a traditional Yule together. As custom would dictate, Severus had harvested the Yule log from a giant Ash tree found on his holdings. He had gifted those of his village with large pieces of the tree for their own Yule, but even still, he, his sons, and the village boys had had a devil of a time rolling the largest uphill to his castle keep. Even though he had been a wizard, they were not permitted a beast of burden or magic to assist in the moving as, again, custom would dictate.

He remembered Luna and their daughters decorating it with boughs of pine and holly, dousing it with apple cider made from their own orchards, and together, as Lord and Lady Snape, they had set the log ablaze using the remnants from the last year's log where it burned throughout the Solstice Season until Twelfth Night. Their children, along with those of the village, had played numerous games of snap dragon. The eerie blue flame of the burning brandy had leant a mystical quality to the season as the children swiped at the fire-lit basin, filching out raisins and other sweet treats before little fingers could get singed.

Harry and James had been his sons then; both of them gifted with the art of plucking the sweetened fruit from the flame for the younger children to have as a treat. His lips twitched slightly in memory. Their sibling ribaldry during that lifetime had been the stuff of legend making the Weasley twins of today pale by comparison. He missed Harry—not the annoying boy-that-lived to be an eternal pain in his backside, but the man, the brother, son, and friend that shared in his joy, in his pain.

He missed James' comradery, his affability. For when they weren't pitted as rivals for one another, he and Severus were good friends and brothers. He missed Lily's decisive nature, her forcefulness. She had such a bright, compelling soul, and when she put her mind to something, there was nothing, absolutely nothing that could stand in her way. He felt a brief wave of melancholy for those lives that had been lived with his soul group whole; lives that they had spent together and moments of joy long since past, And he smiled a bit sadly in reminiscence.

"Professor? Sir, I need your help with the top."

Severus blinked as he saw Luna's gaze fastened upon him, her pale brows arched high in inquiry, distracting him from the meandering melancholy of his current mood. He arched a laconic, inquiring brow of his own. "Sir, I cannot see the top of the boughs to place the last few ornaments. Would you assist me?" She gestured to the ornaments and then the tree itself.

Severus couldn't help channeling the spirit of Ebenezer Scrooge just to needle her a little, "Then leave them bare, Miss Lovegood." He gestured off-handedly, "It is of no consequence one way or the other." _Bah humbug, indeed, my heart_. His lips twitched as he saw her tsk and shake her head, placing her wand behind her ear and mumbling to herself.

An old-fashioned, wooden leaning ladder suddenly appeared beside the tree.

Rising from the chair, Severus made his way over to her. "And what do you propose to do with that may I ask?"

"Climb it of course." So saying, she began to do so, coming up and then surpassing his height. Going behind her, Severus steadied the ladder and handed her the first bauble for placement, cherishing her warmth as her small fingers brushed his. They worked this way in companionable silence until Luna took one of the ornaments and taking her wand out from behind her ear, began transfiguring it into a duplicate of the image she had painted upon the wall.

It was beautiful spell-work; glass-spun artistry. For Luna had replicated down to exact brushstrokes of the eyes, the dark-winged horse enfolding the small unicorn.

She positioned it in pride of place at the very top of the tree, and with a murmured anamata charm, the horse and foal blinked to life, yawning and stretching and then settling back together once more. She leaned back, and Severus suddenly realized two things. One: somehow without his noticing, she had stepped down to where she was now slightly below his height and two: his arms were encircling her waist, holding her to him and she was leaning back against him as they gazed at the tree. Even as he realized these things, she looked up and her steady azure gaze met his own.

He gulped.

He knew that look; she wanted to kiss him. How many times had she looked at him thusly sending his pulse to pounding and heating his blood?

_Sixteen. She was sixteen_!

In this lifetime, the age discrepancy between them was too much!

He repeatedly voiced this thought to himself over and over, but her eyes—her eyes were the eyes of his mate, the other half of his soul.

Noticing something blossoming out of the corner of his vision, Severus looked up.

A bough of mistletoe unfurled above them, and he quickly looked down to see if she had noticed; her expression had not changed; the unabashed, trust-filled want was there bared for him to see. Yet even as he watched, Luna did look up and spy the bough. Within a second, her wand was drawn, and with a flick of her wrist and a murmured _reducto_, the mistletoe was blasted into a thousand tiny pieces that rained down upon them from above.

Severus looked at his mate in open-mouthed astonishment, his brows high.

"Nargles." she said.

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As if that explained everything.

His laughter startled them both; deep, resounding chuckles that filled the Room with the much unused but merry sound. She smiled up at him, perhaps unsure of why he was laughing.

And grasping her by the waist, he lifted her from the ladder and set her down once more before him. His laughter subsided but his smile remained, and gently taking her arm, he led her to the small table that had appeared while they had been finishing decorating the tree. He pulled out her chair and then sat himself at her elbow, not allowing any more space than necessary to come between them.

He fixed her plate and his own, pouring her a small glass of honeyed mead to have with the meal. And they both tucked in. At length, Luna asked him, "So now will you tell me more about the Langhart non odorem elixir?"

His eyes still filled with gentle warmth for her, Severus did so, explaining how to brew the potion, and others besides, that would be helpful to her should she ever have occasion to venture out into the field. And thus, they whiled away hours in companionable conversation until, quite suddenly, the clock on the mantle chimed the hour of twelve.

The both of them looked at it in some surprise, as his gaze met her own. His voice was quiet once more, regret-filled, "It grows late, Miss Lovegood."

"It does professor." She countered and smiled gently.

"And that's another thing." Severus looked at her curiously, "Why is it you refer to me by the title of 'professor' and not 'Headmaster'?"

She toyed with her necklace of butterbeer caps, "It's obvious isn't it? The title of 'Headmaster' makes you uncomfortable. You always flinch a little when someone addresses you as such." She cocked her head to the side as if in thought, "Although, I don't believe it's truly noticeable unless one is actually looking for it." She shrugged.

Again, Severus was taken aback. For not knowing who he was, what he was to her—for not _knowing_ him—she certainly knew him. And he was left wondering how much of that was her innate soul memory and how much was her vaunted Ravenclaw intellect.

At times, it was so very easy to underestimate just how very observant his mate could be because of her off-hand and whimsical nature. She was deceptively sharp was his Luna, and she liked it that way. Her way had never been to boast of her knowledge or power but to quietly and unobtrusively use it to great effect.

Rising from the table on stiffened legs, Severus paused behind her chair and drew her up as well. But when he would have let go of her hand, she retained his, and brought it to press against her cheek.

"Luna—"

"It has been a magical night, hasn't it, sir?" She let go of his hand, but Severus kept it there, caressing the downy softness of her warm cheek gently with his fingertips, imprinting the feel of her so near to him in his memory.

She rose on her tiptoes. And it was if time had slowed. Reaching, she placed her hands on his shoulders for balance, and Severus felt her bestow the lightest of feather-light kisses on his lips; her gentle, questing mouth a small pressure against his own.

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The kiss was over almost before it started. But to Severus, it felt like he had taken a stunner to the chest. "Goodnight professor, and Happy Christmas." She lowered herself from him, and smiling, spun away behind the dressing screen.

Blinking, Severus came back to himself, and making his way towards the door, quit the Room with a quiet snick of the latch. He leaned against the rapidly disappearing door until it became solid wall once more.

His heart beat a clamoring rhythm, every instinct he possessed telling him to go back after her, claim her as his own—his mate! They could leave, leave the magical world far behind—he and his Luna. He would gladly give up magic to have her fixed by his side. And they would go somewhere where there was no Dark Lord or shattered shards of soul to collect; a place where no one even suspected that a magical world existed. And he would love her—love her and hold her openly in this paradise that they would create—paint together— until they both grew old and grey, withered from old age and infirmity, surrounded by their numerous children and their children's children's children.

It hurt.

Sweet Merlin! It hurt to think of things that had been before, but would not, could not be in this life. He now could fully appreciate the celestial wisdom of allowing each soul to forget its past lives in order to live in the present. It was too much, far too much knowledge on which to ruminate, knowing what was, what is, and what cannot be.

The fact that he would not even be entertaining these thoughts about her if he did not have all of the previous knowledge of her, of them, was little comfort.

His path had been chosen, his course set.

Severus tightened his jaw forcing the painful images back and quit the wall, making his way back to the Headmaster's chambers to sleep.

Tomorrow was Christmas, but as the old maxim affirmed, there would be no rest for the wicked no matter the day. And Severus intended to solve the mystery surrounding the urn and gather the pieces remaining of the Dark Lord's soul as quickly as possible.

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_**A/N:**_

What to do? What to do?

How to entice you to read & review?

A charming couplet? A cheesy rhyme?

Perhaps holding my updates hostage for a time?

The authoress has written through chapter thirty-two.

A new chapter a day she'll grant if you read and review. ;)

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Corny, I know, but hopefully effective. I will stand by my word, however …_if_ there is indeed an interest. As an aside, I've been writing this story like a fiend, lack of updates in part due to creative overflow, and part II is finally drawing to its close. Huzzah!

_**DGM**_


	18. Chapter Seventeen— Christmas Morning

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_**A/N:**_ Thanks to Eclaire Stones & RennyyRenn for the reviews. Ladies, this one's for you!

_**DGM**_

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Chapter Seventeen— Christmas Morning

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He had paid his tidings to the Dark Lord much earlier this morning after being summoned. It seemed the almost capture of The Boy Who Lived and the Granger chit was something of which every Death Eater be apprised, and to which all his loyal acolytes should be in attendance to atone for their Lord's fumbling ineptitude. This was a meeting for which Severus had already attended, and knowing every line, he knew he would not be one of the chosen to feel the whip of the Dark Lord's cruciatus.

No, that prestigious honor belonged to the family Malfoy. Severus mentally winced in remembrance as he made his way to the Room. Draco, to his knowledge, had never felt the curse before, and his Aunt Bella was not lenient to his plight, wielding the stinging lash herself on the boy.

Arriving at the Room, he found Luna still in her pajama's, the nebulous haze of sleep still surrounding her making her look impossibly young and innocent in the early morning light. His heart hurt at the image, and the unpleasantness of the morning faded away as he gazed upon her. He noted she incongruently wore her red trainers with brightly colored, polka-dot patterned, silk pajamas. Her wild blond hair tumbled and curled heedlessly down her back in a tangled mess.

She looked up at him, and giving him a soft smile, made for the small pile of presents under the tree. A moment later, she came over with a gaily wrapped package. And, taking him by his hand, led him to the wing-back chair he thought of as _his _to sit, and placed the package before him. "Aren't you going to open your present, sir?" Her eyes looked at him expectantly.

Severus blinked, coming back to the present.

He reached out and grabbed the thing, tearing into the colorful paper as if it offended him most egregiously. Opening the box, he found a stone of black tourmaline lying in a bed of four-leaf clover. "The clover needs to seal and occasionally renew the charm." she stated matter of fact. Looking at it skeptically, Severus picked up the small stone, and felt the soft hum of Luna's magic fill him. "It's a banishment crystal imbued with a comforting charm. It will banish negative energy and protect against psychic vampirism. I know you will need to have more encounters with Voldything and his corrupted soul, and I thought this could help in dealing with such corruption. Do you like it, professor?"

_Voldything? _His lips twitched at the moniker._ Voldything, indeed_. Severus swallowed down the lump of emotion that filled him as he looked at her very thoughtful gift. The small stone's magic was deceptively subtle, but the moment he touched the stone, he had felt its power flow through him, encasing him. Her magic was unobtrusive enough to be undetectable should the Dark Lord have cause to search him. And though it would not shield him should the he decide Severus' life was forfeit, it would help to combat the leeching, draining feeling he always felt after an audience with him. Severus' silken voice was gruff when he answered her, "Very much. I like it very much Luna."

Smiling, she nodded and drifted back to the small pile of presents still under the tree. Rising, Severus followed her, and crouching low, came up to just behind her kneeling form. She looked over her shoulder at him curiously, her blond eyebrows raised in question.

He took out his wand and taking one of the baubles from the tree, transfigured it into a hair brush. "I don't have a present for you. But if you'll allow me, Luna?"

Severus' lips twitched at the look of amazed wonder on her face. It wasn't often he could surprise her, but apparently, being Professor Snape: snarky, greasy git of the dungeons and wanting to brush and plait her hair was enough to do it.

If any one of his acquaintances could see him now, they would probably keel over from the shock.

And Severus supposed that were he to be unaware of exactly what Luna meant to him, he would as well.

But that was the problem—he was aware—_very_ aware. And the Severus Snape that lived through these events the first time 'round— the singular greasy git and potions bastard of Hogwarts—_that_ man ceased to exist the moment he was brought back soul-memory intact.

Luna smiled widely, a beautiful flush fanning along her cheeks as she nodded, and sitting with her back before him, she waited for him to begin. Another flick of his wand and several other ornaments became gaily-colored bits of ribbon and ornamental glass pins with which to decorate her glorious mound of golden curls.

Taking off his voluminous outer robes so that he was in shirtsleeve, Severus seated himself so that she was situated once again between his legs; his black trousers a disparate contrast to her silken polka-dot pajamas. He picked up the brush and began passing it through her golden curls in smooth and gentle strokes.

And how many times had he performed this small service for her; the both of them gaining pleasure from the act? Over the months leading up to this moment, he had dreamed, fantasized about doing this very act for her. It was an excuse, an excuse to touch her he knew. But her gift had moved him, made him wish, want, and remember.

And Severus found he was tired of fighting with himself when it came to her. She was his student, yes, but she was his soul's mate. And that—_that_ fact meant more to him than any temporally temporary status she could hold. Her age be damned. He would not pressure, nor would he ask, but he would be there should she wish it; he was hers.

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They stayed like this for an untold amount of time: Severus calmly brushing and plaiting her long blond hair, and Luna basking in his careful attention as he weaved the colored ribbons and pins throughout, plaiting it as carefully as he would brew a complex potion. Finally, when he had finished, when he had run out of an excuse just to have his hands on some part of her, he put down the brush and made to rise.

But instead, he felt her lean fully back into his chest and, with a small tug, she had his arms around her so that he held her once again. He swallowed, feeling the material of his vest shush slightly against the soft back of her pajama top with every breath they took, every move they made. He leaned forward into her cherry-blossomed hair and inhaled the heady, familiar fragrance appreciatively, becoming intoxicated with the scent, the feeling of her being so near.

"It's time isn't it sir?" Her soft query broke the silence.

Severus shut his eyes and gave a muffled grunt into her coiffed hair, holding her to him tightly. Must she remind him? He felt her squeeze his hands where they held at her waist.

Once more resigning himself to his fate, he answered, "Yes, Luna. It is time."

Lifting her up and away from him, he rose. As soon as he thought it necessary, the lights in the room brightened and two lap desks appeared before the wing-backed chairs. Severus took from his cloak the cipher and put it with the other pages of ciphered text they had translated previously. And after Luna had changed into her day clothes, together they sat before the urn and puzzled out the remaining message.

An hour later, they had the completed translation:

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_**The way ahead is forged through light woven in love. To gather together what has been torn asunder, two of one must incant and call upon the powers most Divine. The pieces of soul will find their way willingly. For ruin gives rise to re-creation.**_

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Severus checked the contents of the urn once more. That was it. That cryptic bit of nonsense was all of it!

He sat back in his chair and silently seethed, but looked up as Luna placed her hand on his cheek and forced his jaw to relax once more. "So the urn is a net sir?" He blinked. He had not even thought about it; his mind still puzzling out the missing pieces they needed to enact the urn. She kept talking, "I was just thinking about the terminology: 'woven and 'gather together'. It seems that the pieces of Voldything's soul will be caught in the urn. But in order for the urn to work, 'two of one' must…well… perhaps they mean a prayer, perhaps a ceremony…?" She trailed off as Severus' mind spun with possibilities.

_Light woven in love… Two of one… powers most Divine…Ruin to re-creation. _

The _two of one_ was obvious to him if not yet to Luna. _The powers most Divine_ would be summoning the Celestial beings. They would need to research an incantation, invocation, or prayer that would involve the both of them. _Ruin to re-creation_ also obvious as the process of death and rebirth that all living beings with souls must undergo which left Luna's net theory: light woven in love.

A net of light woven in love. Protection? Sacrifice? Severus thought the idea through.

No. Sacrifice would be the opposite of light and love, as sacrifices were born of desperation, of fear. The opposite of sacrifice then?

Creation? Birth?

Severus remembered watching the birth of a new soul once.

He and Luna had been in their after in between lives, and Harry had been anxiously awaiting the birth of the other half of his soul pair. As Luna and he, in a rare bit of celestial spontaneity, had been forged together from the same soul, they did not have to undergo this process, and so they had tagged along, curious as to what would happen.

They had watched as from seemingly nothing at all, a small point of light appeared, drawing, weaving, and layering itself in a vast array of color. And all the colors had become blinding in their brilliance as they combined to pure white before dimming to the recognizable figure of Ginevra Weasley.

_A net of light woven in love._ Was that what such a net would look like?

A soul.

A pure, white soul. Unblemished. Untarnished. Something the Dark Lord, at this point, definitely was not.

Severus turned his head to the side in thought. But was that right? Was the Dark Lord's soul corrupted beyond repair? Well, obviously, the celestials didn't think so.

Was it a frame of mind that must be attained? Could it be something as simple as intention?

Echoes of his dealings with the Zigguratian Shamen resounded in his thoughts. They had wanted pure intention. Light and love…purity. Severus thought about the Dark Lord's soul. A soul every bit as worthy as Ginevra Weasley's—a soul he personally saw forged into being—from shattering.

The Dark Lord's soul should not be torn apart, destroyed; as every soul, every being, was precious in the grand design.

Realizing the turn his meandering thoughts had taken, Severus snorted. What a sickeningly saccharine display of humanitarian thought.

"That's the sound a loxytwill makes, professor!" Severus blinked coming back from his mental meanderings to find his mate looking at him with a teasing gleam to her eye. "If you don't mind me interrupting, sir. What is it you are thinking?"

Severus steepled his fingers, and leaning back in the wing-backed chair, glanced at her over them. "I have a few ideas, but first, I want to know your thoughts regarding the translation, Miss Lovegood." He was the persona of Professor Snape, Hogwarts Potion's Master once more, and Severus delighted when she cocked her head to the side slightly, as she had done in his classes past when he would question her, and she began to carefully articulate her response.

"Well… …the urn is the vessel in which the pieces of soul will be contained. But other than being the vessel, and a magical object of course, there really is nothing special about it. What _is_ special, however, is also what is missing from the translation. The 'net' to capture the shards as it were. It has got to be an incantation, ceremony, or something else that calls to them, speaks to them, so that the shards journey to the urn and become encased within it."

"Yes, indeed." He nodded his approval. "A summoning spell or ritual that deals particularly with soul magic."

"hmm...yes, and I think we should figure out where the locations of the shards are as well if possible. Some kind of locator and mapping spell could work. And then there's the depiction of the soul itself…" Severus watched as her eyes grew distant, taking on the particular caste of deep thinking of which he had only just emerged.

Lunch appeared with a pop on the table they had used the night before, and rising, Severus made his way over to her chair and drew Luna up as well. She followed with nary a protest, lost as she was in thought. And he proceeded to seat them both and then heaped her plate with the Hogwarts delicacies that made celebrating at the castle at Christmas so singular: mince pies, roasted potatoes, roast duck...all of this and more. Once he had her plate prepared, Severus brought his hand before her eyes and snapped his fingers… once.

She came back to the 'here and now' with a blink, looking around and then down at her plate.

With the tractability that was so much a part of her nature, she picked up her fork and began eating, Every so often, she would introspect in thought, and Severus called her back to the task at hand by the snapping of his fingers in her periphery. Towards the end of the meal, she grabbed his hand before he could snap again and held it as she ate her mince pie, continuing to stare dreamily into space.

He smirked. It was rare that he could exasperate her, and Severus lived for those times when he could.

Putting down her fork, she broke the silence, "Tell me, sir, do you have any idea how we can locate the other bits of soul?"

Severus immediately thought of the diary of Tom Riddle; the fact that it was a horcrux so obvious to him now. It was one of the main reasons why the Dark Lord did not trust Lucius any longer. If Severus knew where the destroyed diary was, then perhaps the residual imprint from the soul's possession could be used to help find the other shards. "I _do_ have an idea, but first, I need to speak to someone." Wiping his mouth with his cloth napkin, Severus rose from the table and made for the door, stopped only by the lightest of touch.

He looked down.

Luna had grasped his wrist just below his cuff, and looked up at him anxiously. "When will I see you again sir?" Her blue eyes were filled with anxiety, and Severus put his hand to her cheek, warmth filling him when she nuzzled his palm.

"I'm not leaving the castle today, Luna. And chances are very slim that I will be called away. I have already paid my _respects_." She kissed the center of his palm, and Severus' heart stopped as she looked up at him in artless beguilement. She did not know— could not know—what she was doing to him! He gulped, feeling his blood thicken and pulse. Dear Merlin! Could there possibly exist a more potent aphrodisiac in the world than the beautiful woman right there before him?

Severus didn't think so.

In a gravelly voice, he stated, "I will be back later on tonight, Luna. Be dressed for travel. We are going outside the castle once more." So saying, he gently took back his hand from her cheek and made his way outside the Room. On his way back to the Headmaster's quarters, Severus proceeded to systematically occlude every single emotion and thought of Luna he was feeling. Even though the man he was going to see was dead, he was still one of the keenest minds in all the wizarding world.

And this particular dead man still had tales to tell.

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_**A/N:**_ Please remember to tip your authoress and put a review in the alms box. ;D

I will update more quickly if you do.

Thank you,

_**DGM**_


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